


Someone You Loved

by Elle_Writes_4



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, They eventually communicate tho, Torture, au where demons can turn off their emotions, but don’t worry it’s not that bad, but he's bad at showing it, it's 4:37 am as I finish this lol one day I will sleep but today is not that day, oh yeah this is big angst time, sharing the bed, uhhh i think that’s it, will update as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Writes_4/pseuds/Elle_Writes_4
Summary: It was stupid, really.Crowley entered his flat, sliding down the door to the floor as soon as he shut it. He should have expected this, honestly. What had he thought was going to happen? That feelings would be reciprocated, that he would finally get his happily ever after, his reward from the universe for taking the high road instead of being the monster Hell always wanted him to be? It was stupid. There would never be a happy ending for him, no matter how hard he tried. He should have known better. He should have known better.Or, AU where demons can shut off their emotions, and Aziraphale pushes Crowley to finally flip the switch on his feelings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 337





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm back from the dead!! Sorry for the lack of posts school got really busy and the holidays took up a lot of my time. Usually I wait to post fics until I finish them completely, but I wanted to get something out asap! I'll be updating the tags as I go and try to update as soon as possible! Thanks for reading!

It was stupid, really.

Crowley entered his flat, sliding down the door to the floor as soon as he shut it. He should have expected this, honestly. What had he thought was going to happen? That feelings would be reciprocated, that he would finally get his happily ever after, his reward from the universe for taking the high road instead of being the monster Hell always wanted him to be? It was stupid. There would _never _be a happy ending for him, no matter how hard he tried. He should have known better. _He should have known better._

_Maybe that’s precisely the problem! _

Crowley winced as Aziraphale’s words reverberated through his skull, bouncing around every corner of his mind and cutting deep with each contact it made. No matter how hard he tried to push Aziraphale’s voice to the deepest part of his mind to where they could never hurt him again, his words refused to be silenced, refused to let Crowley go unscathed. The tears that Crowley had been holding back on his way home came flooding out, unable to hold back the unbearable pain in his chest any longer. He pulled his legs to chest, as if making himself as small as possible would ease the pain, would cause the broken pieces inside of him to fuse back together.

Why did it hurt so bad? He always knew what Aziraphale’s answer would be, how he’d react if Crowley ever let how he felt slip out. For centuries, he would picture the scenario, see himself confessing those three stupid words in a disgustingly romantic way. In his mind, Aziraphale would respond differently every time; sometimes Aziraphale would smile, tell him _that’s awfully kind of you, my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t feel the same_, or, sometimes he would give him a horrified look, and spend the next century avoiding Crowley. On the rare occasion, Aziraphale would give him an exhilarated smile, and say with tears in his eyes, _Me too Crowley. I have for quite some time now._ That last one was reserved for Crowley’s darkest moments, when he allowed himself to think _maybe, just maybe_.

Truth be told, out of the hundreds of scenarios Crowley had imagined, never, not once, had he anticipated Aziraphale’s response. If anything, he’d expected another version of _you go too fast for me_. For someone’s sake, that would have been _better_. At least with that, he had hope, a small, inkling fire of maybe not now, but one day, one day he’d be ready. Crowley had held onto that, even as Aziraphale tried to push him away for the entirety of their friendship. He’d held onto hope that one day, _one day, _Aziraphale would finally catch up to him.

But look where that got him, curled up on the ground of his own flat, crying his eyes out for an angel who thought his love was a problem. He had been a fool to have hope, to believe so strongly that Aziraphale felt the same, even if he couldn’t admit it. A pitiful sob escaped his lips, his mind tormenting him again as it made him relive one of the worst moments of his life-

_Dinner, as it often did, lead to drinks in the backroom of the bookshop. _

_While Crowley had only planned on staying for a few drinks, it seemed Aziraphale had different plans; they had plowed their way through the first bottle of wine like it was nothing, and had drank so much that Crowley had lost count of how many glasses he’d had. It was nice, though, the evening they were sharing. Aziraphale used to be so tensed, so ready for Heaven to burst down his door and to condemn him. Now, after five months of radio silence from them, Aziraphale had never looked so calm, more in his element. It made Crowley happy to see him like this, a feeling that crept in on him slow and warmed him up like the sun on a particularly warm day. _

_“… when Virgil wrote the Aeneid.” Aziraphale finished just as Crowley realized that he had missed the entirety of what he had been talking about. _

_“Tell me, angel,” Crowley struggled to sit back up where he had sunken into the couch, “What do you like better, the Iliad and the Odyssey or the Aeneid.” Crowley’s wine sloshed out of his glass, but miraculously found its way back into his glass before it hit the ground. _

_“Well,” Aziraphale scoffed, sitting up straighter in his chair, “I can’t possibly choose; Homer and Virgil were both most exceptional at writing.” _

_“Come off it, Aziraphale. I know you have a favorite. You can tell me.” _

_“I shan’t because I don’t have one. I have an equal appreciation for both authors.” Aziraphale said primly, reaching for his drink. _

_“You and I both know that’s a lie. Come on, just tell me? It’s Homer, isn’t it?” A fond smile began to grow on Crowley’s lips as he teased Aziraphale. _

_“I’m not answering that.” Crowley knew he was on the right track, the way Aziraphale took a sip from his wine and refused to look Crowley in his eyes. _

_“I knew it. You just don’t want to admit that you can love one book more than another.” Crowley drained the last of his glass, and sunk back into the couch. _

_“That is absolutely not true.” Aziraphale stood up, taking his and Crowley’s glass to refill while silently indicating that he was done with this conversation. _

_“Whatever you say, angel.” Crowley said with a smile. _

_When Aziraphale came back, he placed Crowley’s glass in front of him and then, giving a slight pause, sat next to Crowley. He blinked at the sudden closeness of Aziraphale, and for a moment neither of them moved. All these years, and they had never done this; it was an unspoken rule, put forth by Aziraphale, that Crowley’s spot was on the couch, and Aziraphale’s was on his reading chair. Close enough to have a conversation, but not close enough to touch. Of course, this was not Crowley’s first time being so close to the angel; they had sat on the same bench hundreds of times and stood far closer than what would be deemed as professional. It was, however, the first time that Aziraphale had so blatantly disregarded his own rules, the first time they had been so close when they were this drunk. Crowley’s gaze shifted from Aziraphale’s eyes to his lips; he couldn’t help it- it was so much easier to control himself when he was at a distance but now, here, face to face with his desire, it was so much harder to fight. Filled with uncertainty, Crowley slowly brought his hand up to cup Aziraphale’s face._

_Aziraphale took a sharp breath in, but didn’t move. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a more sober part of him was screaming that he was making a colossal mistake, that he needed to retract his hand and pretend that this never happened, but he couldn’t find it within himself to stop. With his heart feeling as if it was about to beat out of his chest, Crowley began to trace Aziraphale’s lips with his thumb. Crowley wanted to say something, but it seemed as if the part of his brain that controlled his tongue had disconnected, leaving all the words he’d ever wanted to say trapped in his heart. Without even his consent, his body started to lean in, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. For a split second, Crowley could have sworn he saw Aziraphale do the same; he could have sworn he could see the longing in his eyes, could have recognized it as the longing he had dealt with for centuries. _

_Crowley’s eyes opened with alarm when he felt Aziraphale stand up sharply, with the balance of someone who was significantly more sober than he had been a moment before. Aziraphale walked quickly over to his desk, keeping his back turned to the demon and refusing to say anything. Crowley remained quiet for a few moments, the silence in the room deafening as his mind tried to process what had just occurred. Crowley knew deep down that he should sober up, that he should make a joke, clear the air of any tension so they could resume the pleasant evening they had just been enjoying. _

_Somehow, though, he couldn’t. _

_It almost felt like a dam had been broken inside of him, releasing this overwhelming need to expose himself and share every secret, every single thing he had ever hidden from Aziraphale and bring them to light. It was almost suffocating, and Crowley felt that if he didn’t say anything, if he pushed this under the rug, he was going to drown in it. _

_ “Why?” Crowley finally said when he got his tongue to work, his voice verging on a whisper. _

_“I’m afraid I don’t understand, my dear.” Aziraphale immediately stiffened, but didn’t look back at Crowley. _

_Suddenly pretending seemed too much for Crowley to bear, and a small fire of anger began to build in his chest. _

_“Yes, you do Aziraphale. Stop lying and for once, please, just be honest with me.” Crowley turned his whole body to face Aziraphale, his voice growing with determination. _

_“What do you want me to say, Crowley?” Aziraphale turned around slowly, meeting him with a resigned expression. _

_“I don’t- I just- I,” Crowley shook his head, frustrated that his tongue can’t cooperate with what he wanted to say, “I just want you to tell me the truth!” He accidentally shouted the last word; he hadn’t meant to, but Aziraphale’s elusiveness on the topic at hand and his body refusing to express what his heart wanted to say brushed the small flame of anger in his chest to a full forest fire. _

_“Come now, Crowley you can’t possibly be upset with me-”_

_“I’m not upset with you, I’m in love with you!” _

_“And maybe that’s precisely the problem!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Aziraphale’s face immediately melted into regret, but Crowley barely registered it. _

_Aziraphale’s words instantly extinguished the fire in his chest, leaving him numb for a second with shock._ _Crowley hadn’t even had enough time to recognize that he had let his feelings slip before the weight with what Aziraphale had said crashed down on him. He sat there, staring at Aziraphale with wide eyes while the angel seemed to be trying to sputter out something that resembled an apology but couldn’t quiet get it out. After waiting for Aziraphale to say something, anything, Crowley finally tore his gaze from him. He could feel the pain already beginning to seep its way into the emptiness that his anger had left behind, making him realize that he had to leave quickly before he broke down in front of the angel. _

_Crowley stood up, the alcohol already out of his system as he made his way towards the door, avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. _

_“Crowley…” Aziraphale’s voice was tight, and Crowley didn’t have to be looking at him to know that he was crying. _

_"Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted again, but Crowley ignored him and pushed his way out into the street. _

Six thousand years. Six thousand years of waiting, of holding onto hope, for _this_? For his heart to be _hurting_ the way it was, as if Aziraphale had reached into his thoracic cavity, and tore out the still beating organ without any thoughts on how it’s owner would respond. Crowley had been through pain before but this, _this _was a torture he’d never experienced before. It felt as if his suffering was only getting worse, growing exponentially and Crowley couldn’t see it ever stopping. He curled into himself, letting out a small scream in an attempt to release the built-up pain in his chest.

He’d really mucked it up this time, hadn’t he? Crowley could never face Aziraphale again- the angel would always give him a pitying look out of the corner of his eye, apologize for what he had said but not take it back, because the angel felt it and of _course _he had meant it. Crowley had isolated himself from the only being that he’d ever actually cared about, was somehow the only being in the entire universe to get kicked out of Heaven, Hell, _and _the small side that the two of them had formed.

He had never asked to Fall. He never asked to be a demon, and yet here he was, a disgusting, pitiful creature that even God couldn’t love, wasn’t even worthy of being loved by an angel. 

His tears quickened in pace, his face covered in warm tears as he mourned for himself. Why couldn’t he be loved? Why couldn’t he be cared for? Yes, he was a demon, but he was a demon whom the worst thing he had ever done was glue some coins to a sidewalk in hopes of frustrating people. He’d never asked for much; all he had wanted for six thousand years was peace and quiet with a certain principality from Heaven, and now that he had _finally _gotten it, it was gone. Slipped out from his fingers faster than even the Grace he had held a very long time ago.

Crowley almost envied himself, staring at the burning bookshop and thinking that Aziraphale was gone. At least then, he knew the world was ending in a few hours, knew that he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of losing Aziraphale for very long. He didn’t have that luxury now; he had eternity ahead of him, and it seemed as though he was forced to spend it alone, the wretched creature he was.

He wished he could just make it _stop_, that he could just shut everything out, not feel _anything for just five minutes_-

His sobs stopped as he realized that yes, he _could. _

You see, not known to many, demons had an awfully convenient ability to turn off their emotions. It was what allowed them to be so terribly cruel, to think logically and only for themselves without any regret or guilt eating away at their conscience. Crowley still remembered being freshly Fallen, watching in horror as he saw his fellow demons dim their feelings. The pain and raw emotion on their face disappearing in an instant, an eerie calm taking over them as they looked towards Beelzebub and Lucifer for their next instructions.

Despite everything, Crowley had never done it; he felt as if it was cheating, pulling the plug. He wanted to feel every bit of it, every scrap of pain and happiness that he found, because though he didn’t want to admit it, the ability to feel emotion was the only thing of Heaven he had left in him. He had never wanted to be a demon, so he never intended on fully committing to the deed. Crowley had been tempted many times to, when he saw humanity at it’s worse or when remembering what he had lost in Heaven had become too much, but he never did. He liked emotions, liked the way it made him feel _human_, in some way.

Crowley liked feeling his love for Aziraphale, even when Aziraphale hurt him and reminded him of what he was. It was the one thing that he had that ever really felt like his, the one thing he owned that could never be taken from him.

But now, lying broken and utterly destroyed on the ground, Crowley couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. Would it hurt? Probably not- most likely it just felt like emptiness, a blank slate. Though tempted as he was, he couldn’t help but feel like this was the wrong choice, that he would live to regret this decision. Crowley bit his lip, feeling torn about what to do. Would it be the worst thing in the world to try? He wouldn’t keep it off forever; no, just enough for him to get over Aziraphale’s rejection. Who knows- maybe he’d even have the strength to go apologize to the angel, convince him that he didn’t really mean it, and have things go back to the way they were. Then he’d turn it back on. It would be easy, right? Simple. Nothing to be freaked out about or make a big deal out of.

And so, Crowley closed his eyes, and felt internally for the switch that kept him who he was, and turned it off.

Crowley was right.

It didn’t hurt anymore. 


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale stared in shock as Crowley stormed out of the room, still staring at the door long since the demon had left.

_And maybe that’s precisely the problem!_

Aziraphale’s words lingered in his ear, the surprise of his outburst causing him unable to move and unable to do anything but process his own racing thoughts. Why had he said that? He hadn’t meant it; at least, not in the way that it had sounded, and definitely not in the way that Crowley had interpreted it. As soon as he spoke, Aziraphale had meant to explain himself, meant to assure Crowley that the answer to his confession was not a rejection but rather a frustration directed somewhere else. His words got stuck in his throat, however, after seeing the look of utter shock and heartbreak on the demon’s face. 

Aziraphale hadn’t been thinking when he’d responded. Normally, Crowley was able to sense when he went too far, pushed Aziraphale past where he was comfortable with and switched the subject so the angel didn’t have to face reality. Tonight, however, Crowley had seemed determined to get to the truth, and Aziraphale hadn’t been ready to give it. He twisted his ring, humiliation growing in him as he wondered why he had responded the way he did. It’s not that he didn’t love Crowley; that was a fact that he had known for quiet some time now. And yes, he was well aware that Crowley was in love with him as well. In the past, they had both been so closely monitored by their respective head offices that it made it extremely dangerous to act on their feelings. It was one thing to be caught fraternizing with the enemy, an entirely separate thing to be seen in a romantic relationship with them.

Perhaps that was the reason why those careless words had fallen from his lips; he had been so used to preventing any type of relationship with Crowley that wasn’t purely professional that it was simply just a habit to push him away. A new flash of guilt pushed through him as he realized just how unnecessary his reaction was. Aziraphale doubted that their old bosses would even blink an eye at them if they pursued their feelings for each other; he had played a hand in preventing the apocalypse and had helped to embarrass the forces of Heaven and Hell to a point where they no longer wanted anything to do with them. They would hardly make any sort of fuss over them _now_.

Aziraphale had to talk to Crowley. He had to explain, had to tell Crowley the truth and clean up this mess of his own making. Aziraphale checked the time, and saw that Crowley must have been home for at least a few minutes. He rushed over to his phone, fingers ready to dial Crowley’s number when suddenly he froze. What would he say? What _could _he say in response to this? _So sorry about hurting you. Turns out I didn’t mean it_? What if he said the wrong thing again? Or worse, what if Crowley didn’t forgive him? That he’d realized he’d had enough of Aziraphale, and tell him he never wanted to see him again? He bit his lip, his anxiety and fear quickly overcoming his previous determination. Perhaps he should wait a few days. Let the both of them cool off for a little bit before he apologized. Surely with a bit more time he’d be able to figure out the right thing to say, right? With a sigh, Aziraphale slowly put down the receiver, hoping that he wasn’t making a mistake.

He just hoped that Crowley could forgive him.

Aziraphale called three days later, a little disappointed but not surprised to hear Crowley’s answering machine rather than his own voice. He left a message, a brief one explaining that he wanted to meet up with the demon to talk things over. Before hanging up, Aziraphale waited a few seconds, half expecting Crowley to pick up. When he didn’t, Aziraphale sighed and grabbed the first book he could find on the shelf to distract himself from worrying about Crowley. It was fine, perfectly fine. Crowley had all the right in the world to be upset with him. He deserved his space, and perhaps it was best to let him get his frustrations out before meeting up. It was fine.

When a week passed by, Aziraphale found that he couldn’t wait any longer; he took a bus over to the demon’s flat, determined to talk to Crowley even if he didn’t want to. He had to make this right. With every hour that passed that Aziraphale let this continue, he felt himself go more and more crazy, the guilt eating him alive. When Aziraphale and Crowley argued, they normally left in a very heated manor, with Crowley coming back a little while later to apologize even if he didn’t have anything to apologize for. While normally it ranged from a few days to even a century for them to make up, with the apocalypse behind them and each other as their only allies, Aziraphale also felt the need to make sure nothing horrible had happened to the demon.

When Aziraphale arrived at Crowley’s door, he paused for a few moments, last minute thoughts and anxieties catching up with him. What if Crowley didn’t let him in? What if he didn’t want to see him? What if he needed more time, or worse, Aziraphale had waited too long? Aziraphale wondered if maybe he should leave, give Crowley more space before he sought him out. No, he couldn’t do that. If he left now, it wouldn’t be because he wanted to give Crowley more time, but rather it would be an excuse for Aziraphale to delay having to face his mistake. He had to do this, and had to do this now. 

Aziraphale raised his hand slowly, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves before knocking.

“Crowley? It’s me. Aziraphale,” The angel paused, only continuing when he failed to hear a response, “Listen, I know you’re upset with me, and you have every right to be. Just, please let me in so I can explain.”

Aziraphale stood in silence for a few moments, the anxiety in his heart only growing with every second that Crowley refused to answer him.

“Crowley, if you don’t open this door I will be forced to open it myself.” Aziraphale said with a tone that was much more confident than he felt.

The flat remained quiet.

“Fine. Well, I warned you.” With a flick of his wrist, the door opened itself for Aziraphale, and the angel quietly walked through the threshold.

“Crowley?” The demon’s flat was dark, his anxiety washed away by the fear that Crowley’s prolonged silence was perhaps due to more nefarious reasons.

“Crowley? Are you here?” Aziraphale took a few more steps into the lifeless room, his heart beating painfully as he considered the worse.

The noise of a television quickly caught his attention, and relief coursed through him as he saw the demon lounging on a couch with a bottle of wine in his hand.

“Oh, Crowley, you scared me,” Aziraphale sighed as he approached Crowley, “You must not have heard me knocking over whatever you were watching.”

“Nope. I heard you.” Crowley kept his eyes glued to the screen, refusing to acknowledge Aziraphale’s presence.

“Oh. Then why didn’t you answer?” Aziraphale’s nerves began acting up again, causing him to twist the ring on his finger. 

“Was hoping that you’d take a hint and leave. But it looks like I’m not that lucky.” Crowley took a sip from the bottle in his hand, his expression neutral. 

“Listen, Crowley I came here to talk about-”

“The other night?” Crowley sat up, still refusing to make eye contact with Aziraphale, “I know. I heard you the first time.”

“I’m sorry. So extremely sorry. I shouldn’t have said… well, I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did. I didn’t mean it- I swear to you I didn’t mean it. It’s just… I have been so used to being watched all the time. So used to being worried about what would happen to you if they found out. But that doesn’t matter now, and I know it’s no excuse, but I want you to know that I, well, I feel the same. For you,” Aziraphale paused, waiting to see some kind of response from Crowley, only continuing when he found the demon silent, “And if you don’t want me that way, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll respect that. But I just, wanted you to know the truth.”

Crowley only turned his head towards him when he finished speaking, expression blank as he scanned Aziraphale’s face. The angel squirmed, not used to the feeling of being dissected and analyzed- at least, not from Crowley. After a few seconds, Aziraphale tried desperately to think of something, anything really, to fill in the silence that seemed to stretch in front of them. Before he had a chance, however, Crowley began to chuckle, before tilting his head back and bursting out into full laughter.

“Really, Crowley. I know I probably deserve that but is it really necessary?” Aziraphale cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.

“Yes, yes it is, Aziraphale,” The demon said in between fits of laughter, only continuing when he calmed down, “You see, if you had said that a few days ago, or even that night, I would have been overjoyed. Over the moon. My wildest dreams come true. But now, your words, they’re useless. They mean absolutely nothing to me. It’s kind of ironic that you’d tell me now, now that I think about it.” He stared at Aziraphale coldly, eyes devoid of any emotion.

Aziraphale blinked in shock; he was expecting Crowley to be upset, maybe even angry, but this? This was sadistic and calloused, nothing like Crowley had ever been in his six thousand years. At least, not to Aziraphale. Never with Aziraphale.

“What has gotten into you, Crowley? You’re acting as if, as if you don’t care!”

“That’s because I don’t. Can’t, actually.” He took another sip from his bottle, returning his attention to the screen.

“Wha- what do you mean by that, Crowley?” The demon didn’t answer him, almost pretending that Aziraphale wasn’t there. 

“Crowley,” he continued to sit, unfazed by Aziraphale, “Crowley answer me.”

After a minute of silence, Aziraphale moved in front of the screen, causing the demon to groan in annoyance.

“Tell me what you mean by that, Crowley.” The demon narrowed his eyes at the angel, seeming determined to leave Aziraphale with no answers, before he sighed.

“I turned it off.” He said flippantly.

“Turned what off? You’re not making any sense, my dear.”

“My emotions,” Crowley sat up straight, readjusting himself on the couch, “I turned off my emotions.”

A cold chill ran through Aziraphale, panic and alarm immobilizing him. He had heard from Heaven that demons couldn’t feel anything, that as soon as they lost their grace they also lost their ability to feel emotions. However, after centuries of spending time with Crowley, Aziraphale had assumed that it had been a lie. That it had just been another way that Heaven had tried to spread its propaganda to cause further discord between angels and demons. But now, looking at Crowley’s offhand and irreverent behavior, horror dawned on him as he realized what he had done to Crowley.

“Y’know, demons have this real handy ability to-”

“I know what you mean Crowley,” Aziraphale snapped, shaking his head as he tried to wrap his head around the situation, “Why would you do such a thing?”

Crowley’s eyes widened in disbelief, his expression shocked as he said, “How could _I_? _You’re _the one who broke my heart and then was more than happy to let me wallow in pain for a few days! When all you had to say is how you really felt to make the hurt go away! What, did you think I’d come find you? That I’d try to make it right so you wouldn’t have to do anything hard? Tell me- if I didn’t ignore you, if you hadn’t come here, would you be confessing to me right now, or are you just bored and figured this was the easiest way to win me back?”

Aziraphale blinked, his mouth opened to say something but unable to speak. In truth, he didn’t know. Would he have confessed? If Crowley had come back to him, had told him that he was drunk and didn’t mean what he had said, would Aziraphale have told him the truth? Or would he have let things go back to the way they were, to late dinners and drinks in the back room, ignoring the obvious fact that they both felt the same way?

“That’s what I thought.” Crowley scoffed, turning his head towards the window.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know what I’d do,” Aziraphale said softly, feeling weighted down with shame, “But listen to me when I tell you this- me telling you how I feel is not a way to manipulate you to come back into my life. I’m sorry for hurting you so deeply the other night and if I could I would go back and change my actions in a heartbeat. So I am so, deeply and honestly sorry for all I have done.”

Crowley turned to watch Aziraphale intently, scanning his face for something Aziraphale didn’t know. After a while he shrugged, letting out a small sigh.

“Whatever. It’s not like it matters anymore.” Crowley turned to take another sip from his bottle, groaning when he discovered it was empty.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said slowly.

“Hm?”

“Will you please turn your emotions back on?” Uncertainty gripped Aziraphale’s heart, fearing that Crowley might be lost forever due to his absentminded words.

“No.”

Aziraphale felt as if his heart stopped beating in his chest, and he knew that he had to pick his next words carefully.

“Crowley dear, please, this isn’t you. Just, turn your emotions back on and everything will be alright.” Aziraphale tried to keep his voice even, not wanting to show just how terrified he was.

“You see, Aziraphale, no, it won’t,” the demon stood up, causing Aziraphale to step back, “With my emotions, I couldn’t think straight. The only thing I cared about was _you, _how _you_ felt, what _you_ wanted, and how to make _you_ happy. And look where that got me! The only being in the _entire_ universe to get kicked out of Heaven _and _Hell. So no. I’m not going back to the way I was. For the first time since the beginning I can _finally_ think clearly, and who knows? Maybe I can talk to Hell, blame the whole apocalypse business on my affliction with you and get off scot-free. Start over and start living for _myself_. So stop asking, because I will _never _go back to loving you.”

“I’m sorry, Crowley, but I must insist that you turn it on.” Aziraphale stood up taller, straightening his coat.

“Look, you have two choices. Either you drop this, maybe have a drink with me and enjoy whatever mind-numbing show we can find, or you can leave.” Crowley crossed his arms, matching Aziraphale in his stubbornness. 

“I’m not leaving here until you are yourself again!” Aziraphale huffed.

“I’m warning you, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s face darkened, his voice threatening in a way Aziraphale had never heard before.

For the first time in the entirety of six thousand years, Aziraphale felt frightened in the presence of Crowley. Not even when the demon had crawled up to him on the wall had he felt afraid, just mild concern and curiosity. Over the centuries, Crowley had proven time after time that he was not a threat, and eventually Aziraphale had begun to feel safe in his presence. Standing here now, Aziraphale had a growing feeling that he might actually be in danger, that the demon that had once walked on consecrated ground for him now had the real possibility of hurting him. 

“I’m afraid I must persist.” All of Aziraphale’s instincts were telling him to run, but he refused. After everything Crowley did for him, Aziraphale would not abandon him in his time of need. He’d been a coward long enough; it was time to be brave for the demon he loved.

“Alright then,” Crowley shrugged, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The demon snapped his fingers, which was quickly followed by the sound of screeching breaks and tires desperately trying to stop before the horrible sound of metal crunching and screams came from outside. Aziraphale flashed Crowley one frightened look before rushing to the window, alarm and dread slowly filling him as he stared at the nightmare outside. Two cars had crashed into each other and collided into the sidewalk, innocent people covered in blood and crying for help while others remained alarmingly still. Though Aziraphale couldn’t be sure, from what he could see it seemed that it might be fatal. Aziraphale used a quick miracle to make sure any life-threatening injuries disappeared and that an ambulance and first responders would come onto the scene within a few minutes.

Aziraphale turned around slowly to see Crowley had sat down again, returning his attention to whatever show he’d been watching when Aziraphale had walked in. The angel stared at Crowley with a new light, now beginning to understand the rules and just how far gone the demon that he loved was.

“Told you. Now you can stay for that drink if you’d like,” He turned his head back to Aziraphale, flashing a smile that caused chills to run down his spine, “But I have a feeling that you’re probably too upset for that now.”

Aziraphale stared wide-eyed at the demon for only a moment, before he tore his gaze and walked out the door as fast as he could.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So double update today! This is because I originally wrote this as one chapter, but when I went through it all I realized that this was wayyy too long to make one chapter. Enjoy!

As soon as Aziraphale made it back to the bookshop, the reality of what had just happened caught up with him. He collapsed at his desk, his head falling into his hands. The angel still couldn’t fathom it; Crowley, the kindest soul he’d ever known (despite his insistence that he wasn’t), had been more than happy to hurt countless numbers of innocent people just to prove a point. He hadn’t even been fazed by it; he’d done it as easily as one breathes, as if human life was something he couldn’t be bothered with. It hurt Aziraphale to his core, knowing that if Crowley could still feel, he would be horrified by his actions.

Tears began to spring from his eyes, caused by the pain of knowing that this was all _his _fault. He’d pushed Crowley to do this, to become something that was so different from his nature that it was almost comical. All he had to do the other night was to be honest, to be just as open and vulnerable as Crowley had been and they would’ve been _fine_. In fact, they would have been _happy _right now, being able to be so open about their feelings that they had hid for so many years. Instead, Aziraphale was all alone, pitifully crying as his heart broke over what he had done while Crowley sat in his flat, not giving a damn about anyone or anything.

Aziraphale had to do something, had to fix this before Crowley did anything else he would regret.

But what could he do? He had tried to plead, tried to _beg _Crowley to understand and all that lead to was Crowley taking his anger out on those poor souls who had just been going about their day. Aziraphale couldn’t push him; he’d made it perfectly clear on what the repercussions would be if the angel tried to get him to turn his emotions back on. There was already enough blood on Aziraphale’s hands, and he didn’t think he could take any more tragedies that would come from a simple snap of Crowley’s fingers.

On the other hand, he couldn’t just do _nothing_. This wasn’t about him anymore; everyday that Crowley went without his emotions was another day that the real him slipped further and further away. He was a threat to all of humanity, and Aziraphale owed it to him to try and save _him _for once. Crowley had spent his entire existence protecting Aziraphale, putting the angel first no matter _what_ the cost was. It was about damn time he came through for Crowley when he needed him, and though it would in no way make up for all that he put Crowley through, it would be a start.

With a steadying breath, Aziraphale wiped away his tears, straightening himself up in his chair. He spent enough time crying, grieving over his actions. Crowley needed him, and he wouldn’t be much help to him if he was stuck here, beating himself up.

There’d be plenty of time for that later.

As he calmed down, he began to twist the ring on his finger as he pondered their situation. How was he going to save Crowley without facing his wrath? He’d already proved that he was capable of anything, and if he got even so much of an inclination that Aziraphale was working against him he’d do something even worse than before. 

Aziraphale knew that research was needed before he could take action. The only problem was that he had no idea where _to _get that research. Aziraphale knew every book in his collection, had read them enough times to know their contents without having to so much as glance at their covers. He was certain that not one of them had mentioned anything about demon’s convenient way of ignoring their emotions, let alone how to make one turn said feelings back on. 

Aziraphale thought about searching the internet, but realized that if even he didn’t have any knowledge on the subject then he doubted humanity would. Where else could he go for help? There’s no way Heaven would answer any of his questions, and he was fairly certain Hell couldn’t care less about Crowley’s emotional state. Aziraphale felt his heart beginning to sink, realizing that he was at a loss at what to do.

There had to _someone _or _something _on this planet that had _some _sort of information.

Perhaps he could summon a demon, get all the answers he needed from them? No, the demon would most likely tell Crowley’s boss about his state as soon as he was released, and who knows? Maybe Hell would take him and try again to find out the secret to his immunity. Aziraphale shuddered at the thought, knowing that if pushed Crowley would most likely shove him under the bus.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, thinking about anyone with any relation to Hell that might help him. Maybe Adam knew something? No, the boy had seemed to lose all of his powers after the events at Tadfield. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was pull a _child _into all of this mess. He knew that Shadwell would definitely know _nothing, _and Madame Tracey didn’t seem to have any credible psychic abilities. Who then was left…? 

Aziraphale felt a weight being lifted off his chest, his memory reminding him of Agnes Nutter’s descendent.

Anathema.

While he might not know how to save Crowley from himself, Anathema _might_. She was a witch, and human magic was extremely different from both celestial _and _occult. She’d known about the Antichrist and how to find him, perhaps she would know how to fix this mess. Surely she had _something _she could do, whether or not Anathema had extended knowledge on demons.

The last thing he wanted was to get another person involved who could possibly get hurt, but he had nowhere else to turn.

This was his only option.

\----------------------------------------------------------

The bus ride to Jasmine Cottage was quicker than Aziraphale expected, however he wasn’t sure if that was due to the light traffic or himself. It was probably the latter, considering that the bus driver was very confused to find himself making a stop that wasn’t even on his route. As he stepped off the bus, Aziraphale made sure that the bus driver would get home safely and would find that he would be receiving a raise for his hard work. The angel almost chuckled as he imagined how Crowley react; he’d say something along the lines of _C’mon, angel, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? _but then would give him a fond and approving look when he thought Aziraphale wasn’t looking.

His laugh stopped, the sound quickly aborted in his throat, as he remembered the circumstances that lead Aziraphale here. 

Aziraphale shook his head, clearing away his sadness so he could focus as he made his way to the front door. He couldn’t help but feel a little flash of guilt as he came unannounced, but found comfort in the fact that he _had _tried; he had gone to call Anathema when he decided to come and pay her a visit, however quickly realized that he didn’t even remember her number.

The only telephone number he’d ever bothered to memorize was Crowley’s.

He knocked on the door gently, clasping his hands together in front of him as he waited patiently for Anathema to answer. He heard her yell something that resembled _Hold on please!_ quickly followed by the sound of footsteps getting louder as she rushed towards the door. When she finally opened it, she froze, gazing at Aziraphale in surprise before she addressed him.

“Oh. Hi, Aziraphale. I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.” Anathema’s tone was friendly, but he could sense a bit of worry hiding in her voice.

“Lovely to see you again, Ms. Device. I’m so terribly sorry to come unannounced, however I’m afraid I need your help.” It took all of Aziraphale’s will power to stay calm and polite, and to not show how deeply distressed he was.

“Oh, is everything okay?”

He grimaced, swallowing before speaking, “I think it’s best if I were to come inside to explain.”

“Oh yeah, of course, here, follow me.” Anathema moved out of the way, leading Aziraphale into her living room.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked as he sat down on the couch.

“That would be lovely, my dear.” She smiled at him, before making her way into the kitchen.

As Aziraphale listened to Anathema prepare his drink from the other room, he couldn’t help but think that though the living room was oddly decorated for his taste, it seemed to fit the witch perfectly. The room was filled with furniture, however wasn’t overcrowded; odd knick-knacks lined the tops of shelves and the coffee table in front of him, and he couldn’t help but notice some odd plants growing on the end table next to him. His heart ached at the realization that Crowley would have loved to have a look at them, probably whisper threats to them when no one was looking. He made a silent resolution that once he got Crowley back, he’d take him to a botanical garden and listen to every word he spoke about the various fauna they saw. 

“Here you go.” Anathema entered the room, placing the cup of tea in front of him before sitting down in the armchair that rested across from him.

“Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale took a sip of the tea, the heat of the liquid coursing through him and relaxing him a bit. He felt his nerves begin to settle, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the witch put anything in it to help calm him down.

“So why does an angel like you needed help from me?” She asked once Aziraphale placed his cup down.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s Crowley.”

“What about Crowley? Is he alright?” Her eyebrows furrowed, worry alighting in her eyes. Aziraphale had only spoken to Anathema a few times after the failed apocalypse, however he knew that Crowley had taken a liking to the witch and had met for a few drinks every now and then.

“No- well, physically yes, but he’s turned off his emotions.” Aziraphale eyed Anathema carefully, trying to gauge from her reaction what she knew.

“What do you mean, turned off his emotions? As in he can’t feel anything anymore?” Anathema stared at him quizzically, acting as if he had just said something in a foreign language. 

“As it turns out, demons can just choose to shut everything out, not have to experience any feelings at all.”

“I had no idea,” She shook her head, eyes wide in shock, “He never mentioned it me.”

“Me neither,’ Aziraphale said mournfully, before continuing, “I was wondering if, perhaps, you had a spell or anything at all that could help with getting him to turn his feelings back on?”

“I- I don’t know, maybe? I can bring out some spell books for us to look through to see if there’s anything useful.”

“Yes please, I’d highly appreciate it.” He knew it was dangerous, but a small spark of hope began to burn in his chest; he doubted there would be a spell that would force Crowley to experience emotions again, but maybe there was something there that would help lead them in the right direction to push Crowley into coming back into himself.

Anathema nodded before she stood, making her way to the bookshelf. Her fingers skimmed across a few volumes, fingers tapping thoughtfully as she began to pull old, fraying books that Aziraphale considered to be a miracle that they hadn’t fallen apart yet. He was about to comment about the awful treatment of the books before he remembered that Anathema was _helping _him, and wouldn’t appreciate his commentary. Besides, she had probably received them in that condition, considering that spell books with witches tended to be passed down generation to generation.

“These are the only ones I can think of that might have anything we can use.” She sat down next to him on the couch, setting the books down on the coffee table in front of them.

“I’m sure we can find something.” Aziraphale reached for a book with the upmost care, using a miracle to ensure that the cover didn’t break off as he opened it.

“So what caused Crowley to turn it off?” She asked, drawing Aziraphale’s attention away from what he was reading.

He paused, trying to think of what to say. “Well, you see we got into an…argument the other night, and I’m afraid we got very heated. I said something I’m not proud of, and it hurt Crowley so bad that he stormed off before I could take it back. I visited him today and apologized, but it was too late,” He drew in a shaky breath, regret and guilt making his throat feel tight, “I asked him to turn it back on, but I’m afraid I pushed him too much; he grew angry at me and yelled and then in an attempt to get me stop pestering him he caused an accident to happen right outside his flat.”

“Holy shit,” Anathema stared at him in disbelief, “I just thought, I don’t know, that he was just acting like an asshole or something. But he actually _hurt_ people? Did anyone die?”

“No, no don’t worry, I made sure that everyone involved all had miraculous recoveries.”

Anathema nodded, staring at a corner in the room as she became lost in her thoughts.

“That’s why I’m trying to find a solution as fast as I can- if he hurts anyone else-”

“Wait a minute,” Anathema interrupted, head tilted in confusion as she met his surprise gaze, “I thought you said he couldn’t feel anything.”

“He can’t. He proved it- have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?” Aziraphale said, not understanding what she was getting at.

“But he yelled at you.” She stared at him expectantly, as if she was stating something obvious that she couldn’t believe he didn’t see.

“Yes…” Aziraphale returned her gaze with a blank one, still not grasping what she was getting at.

“People only yell when they get really angry or upset. Which means-”

“I started to stir up some of his emotions.” Aziraphale finished for her, eyes going wide as he realized the implication of what he was saying.

“Which means that all we have to do to get him back is to push him enough until it all starts flooding back.” She smiled excitedly, and for a moment Aziraphale relished in it, relished in the fact that there was _hope_, that Crowley was still in there, and all he had to do was reach for him.

“But wait,” Aziraphale frowned, “How on Earth are we going to be able to that without him hurting anyone else?”

Anathema paused, biting the inside of her mouth as she thought.

“Actually,” She flashed him a mischievous grin, “I think I might know a way.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

It had taken almost a full day, but after hours of meticulous planning, Aziraphale felt they were almost ready to put their plan into action. They had discussed every possible outcome, made back-up plans for their back-up plans, and gone over every detail twice. Everything was almost done, and all he had to do was verify a few things in the spell books that Anathema had provided to make sure that they hadn’t missed anything. It was overkill, Anathema had said, but Aziraphale _had _to make sure everything was perfect.

They only had one shot at this, after all. 

Anathema emerged from the kitchen, carrying two cups of freshly made tea. She handed one to Aziraphale, who accepted it gratefully, before she sat back down next to the angel. She was oddly silent, taking long sips of tea and giving him curious glances out of the corners of her eyes. He could almost hear the question she wanted to ask, could feel it eating at her though she didn’t quite have the strength to ask. 

“Is something bothering you, Ms. Device?” Aziraphale asked without looking up.

“Yes, well, I wanted to ask you something.” Aziraphale turned his attention to her, staring at her expectantly as he silently indicated for her to continue.

“You said that you and Crowley got into a fight, but you never clarified what it was about.” She said it slowly, as if she feared for the angel’s response but couldn’t find it in her to stop.

Aziraphale felt himself stiffen, swallowing nervously. He didn’t want to tell her; he already hated himself over it, already regretted his actions more than anything he’d ever done in his very long life. The last thing that he wanted was Anathema’s disgust, the way she’d surely turn hostile towards him if she knew. 

“I hardly see why that’s relevant.” Aziraphale huffed, turning his gaze away from Anathema.

“Of _course _it’s relevant! Listen, in order for this to go well I have to know the whole picture, not just aspects of it.” Anathema’s voice was stern, but somehow still managed to hold enough tenderness around the edges of it.

Aziraphale sighed, hating the fact that he knew she was right. If he was going to ask for her help, she deserved to know the truth. Besides, he deserved her hate, deserved to have someone point out how terrible of a being he was. 

“He, he told me that he was in love with me.” His voice was soft, the barest hint of regret slipping in as he braced himself to continue.

Anathema’s eyes widened, her mouth opening as if she was going to say something before she stopped herself to let him finish.

“I had sat down next to him after a few drinks, something I’d never done before, and I think that caused us both to be off balanced because he leaned in to kiss me and I,” He took a shaky breath, embarrassment coloring his cheeks over how stupid he’d been, “I freaked out and moved away. He confronted me, and he accidentally let it slip and I immediately snapped and told him that him loving me was the problem.”

He flinched as he finished speaking, his eyes turning towards Anathema sheepishly as he took in her reaction. She looked stunned, mouth falling open ever so slightly and seeming at a loss for words.

“You said _what_?” She asked, disbelief filling her tone.

“I know,” He put his head in his hands, self-hatred rising in him with every second, “Believe me, I know. It was such an awful thing to say, and I didn’t even _mean_ it. I just wasn’t expecting him to push me and believe me when I say that I regret it, and that I _will _regret it for the rest of my life.”

An uneasy pause settled between the two, Aziraphale internally beating himself up as Anathema tried to think of what to say.

“Well, do you?” She finally asked after a few minutes.

Aziraphale removed his hands, frowning at the witch. “Do I what?”

“Love him?” Her voice was gentle, offering no judgement.

“Yes,” Aziraphale’s voice was breathless, and he couldn’t help but notice how _good _it felt to admit it, to not hide how he felt, “With my entire soul.”

“Then why..?” She trailed off, and Aziraphale could sense that she didn’t want to push but still wanted to know.

“You must understand, my dear, we were under scrutiny for so many years, our actions constantly being watched that I was terrified that if we were ever discovered, they would kill him. Or worse; we’d be separated from each other, never able to see one another again. I suppose those old fears don’t just wash away in the blink of an eye.” He sighed, his heart beginning to feel heavy with regret.

Anathema watched his face carefully, her eyes seeming to stare right through him in a way that made him feel unsettled.

“Bullshit.” She said suddenly and forcefully.

Aziraphale stared at her, stunned, unexpecting of the witch’s sudden reaction.

“I _beg _your pardon?”

“I _said_ bullshit,” She stared at him confidently and defiantly, almost daring him to prove her wrong, “Now, I’m not saying that the fear of discovery didn’t play a small role, but for how you reacted? No, there’s got to be something else. You said you normally don’t sit next to him while drunk?” She paused, giving him a moment to nod, “Which means that in that moment you weren’t afraid of the consequences. That came later. You’re either lying to yourself or you won’t admit to the real reason why you’re afraid to be with Crowley. Either way, you need to figure out what that real reason was. You owe that to yourself, and to Crowley especially.” 

Aziraphale stared at Anathema with a stunned silence, any words he might have said to deny her dying on his tongue. Even though his first instinct was to object to what she was saying, to point out that she never had to deal with ruthless angels breathing down her back for six thousand years, a small part of him couldn’t help but feel like she was right. The realization he’d come to earlier was too quick, too easy. A small part of him knew that deep down, there was another reason why he’d reacted the way he did, and it had nothing to do with Heaven or Hell.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

“I- I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Aziraphale said once the shock wore off, and Anathema looked pleased and, thankfully, turned her attention to the spell book in Aziraphale’s hands instead of pushing him.

“Do you think you’re ready to do this?” She asked, her finger running across the page.

“No.” He answered honestly, causing the witch to look up and meet his eyes.

In all honesty, Aziraphale didn’t think he could ever _be _ready. The plan they had was a good one, but it involved having to do some nasty things if aspects of it didn’t work. He hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but he had seen the stubbornness Crowley had held, and knew that he would probably force their hand when it came down to it. It wouldn’t be pretty, no, but it was necessary. Aziraphale would do everything in his power to protect Crowley, to save him from this fate that he had pushed him to.

And even if it came down to trading his life to save Crowley’s, he was more than willing to sacrifice himself.

“But I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the holy water torture! Like I said in the tags, it's not very bad but just wanted to warn you guys in case it's not someone's cup of tea. Other than that, enjoy!

Aziraphale stood patiently in front of the register in his shop, anticipation and fear nearly overflowing inside of him. Everything was fine. The plan was in place, every detail and possible mistakes accounted for. They had spent more than enough time planning, and spent extra care and caution into preparing the location and necessary items that they would need. All that was left now was to execute it, and to make sure Aziraphale didn’t give himself away to the demon.

He shuddered to think about what Crowley would do if he found out he was trying to get him to turn his emotions on a second time.

Just as he was beginning to calm himself down, the chimes on the door rang, indicating that Crowley had arrived. He took a deep breath, ready to give the best performance of his life. He could do this. He _had _to do this. And not just for the safety of Anathema and the countless other potential victims if this went wrong.

He had to do this for Crowley.

The demon sauntered in calmly, sunglasses obscuring his face in such a way that Aziraphale could almost imagine that it was his Crowley, just as lovely as ever. But Aziraphale knew that if he were to look closely enough he would see just how cold and distant his eyes were. The eyes _were _the window to the soul, afterwards, and it seemed as though Crowley had forgotten his.

“So what’s this problem with Heaven and Hell that was so urgent that we had to meet in the privacy of your bookshop and not in one of our usual places?” Crowley said when he reached Aziraphale, face expectant.

Aziraphale had called Crowley, who had him leave a voicemail (to no one’s surprise), expressing that he thought that their former bosses might have figured out how they had escaped their untimely demise. After thirty seconds of hanging up, the demon had called him back, demanding to know details which Aziraphale told him was too dangerous to discuss over the phone. He had been afraid that Crowley would see right through his lies or worse- contact Hell and sell Aziraphale over in order to save himself, but thankfully had agreed to come, no matter how apprehensive he might be.

“Yes, well, it’s very complicated- here, it’s better if I just show you.” Aziraphale wordlessly indicated for Crowley to come with him upstairs to the flat that resided just above the bookshop, and almost sighed with relief when Crowley began to follow him.

“This better not be another attempt to change me, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice was dark and menacing, causing Aziraphale to wonder if exposing his back to the demon was a mistake.

“Of course not, my dear. You’ve made it perfectly clear on what would happen if I tried.” Aziraphale was glad that Crowley couldn’t see his face; he managed to keep his tone defeated and hopeless, but he couldn’t quite keep the worry off of his face.

An uneasy silence fell between the two of them as Aziraphale lead them up the stairs and into the spare room of Aziraphale’s flat. Before the last few days, the room hadn’t existed, but because they needed a relatively large space with room to do what they had planned, the flat had just decided to accommodate them with what they needed. As Aziraphale entered the room, he flicked his wrist to cause the shutters on the only window to close. The room itself was bare, save for a few chairs that looked well-worn beyond their years; Aziraphale hadn’t felt the need to decorate it more than what was necessary.

When Aziraphale reached the back of the room, he stopped and turned around with enough time to see Crowley walk into an invisible wall.

“OW, wha- Aziraphale, what the _fuck_?” Crowley placed his hand on the barrier, pushing as hard as he could, expression growing frustrated and angry when it didn’t give.

“I’m sorry, Crowley, but like I said, I must insist that you turn your emotions back on.” Aziraphale sounded calmer than he felt, a small tick of fear still gnawing at him as he worried if he had underestimated how powerful Crowley was and if retribution was sure to follow.

Crowley stared at him in shock, clearly not expecting Aziraphale to try anything again so soon. His temporary shock quickly melted back into cold uninterest, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the angel.

“I should have known you wouldn’t give up so easily. You’re so _annoyingly _stubborn. I think I’m starting to see why your coworkers hated you so much.” Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley grinned vindictively as he watched his response.

He silently reminded himself that this wasn’t Crowley, that he would _never _say something like that to him, would never relish in hurting him, but it didn’t matter.

It still stung just the same.

“Anyways, I thought I made it clear about what would happen if you pulled anything again. No worries, I don’t mind giving another demonstration.” He snapped his fingers, the two of them staring at each other as they waited to see what torture Crowley had in mind.

Only nothing happened.

Aziraphale let out a silent breath of relief, and Crowley frowned, staring at his hand before trying the same miracle again and failing. He stared at Aziraphale in disbelief and confusion, before finally gazing at the ground to confirm what Aziraphale felt he probably suspected.

Crowley stood in a small circle, only big enough to take about two steps in any direction. The barrier of his prison was only indicated by the illumination of the Enochian symbols that trapped them there, and had only begun to glow once Crowley had stepped into it. Aziraphale’s wrists faintly ached with the memory of the hours of painstakingly writing them out, making sure each word meant what he wanted and that each letter was correct, leaving no room for any loopholes. Aziraphale knew just how fond of loopholes Crowley was, and how if he had written anything that could be interpreted differently, written anything in a way that could be twisted to change its meaning, Crowley would find it.

Crowley stared at the floor in stunned silence, silently reading the symbols at his feet. He began to chuckle, a small sound that only grew as he looked up at Aziraphale, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

“I’ve got to say, Aziraphale. I’m impressed. A Devil’s Trap? Didn’t think you had it in you.” He took the sunglasses off his face, the humor in his voice eerily missing from his eyes.

“I would warn against trying to find a way out. I made sure you wouldn’t,” Aziraphale clasped his hands in front of him, standing up a little straighter now that Crowley was no longer a threat, “While you’re in there you won’t be able to leave unless I say so, and you won’t be able to use any miracles or magic. You’re stuck, I’m afraid.”

Crowley nodded noncommittedly, taking in his surroundings and no doubt trying to find a way to escape.

“So what if I, y’know, SHOUT LIKE THIS,” Aziraphale nearly jumped out of his skin as he raised his voice, but the demon paid him no mind, “DO YOU THINK PEOPLE WILL BE CONCERNED IF THEY HEAR THAT YOU’VE KIDNAPPED ME?” He tried to look out towards the shop as far as the circle would let him, probably trying to see if any pedestrian came running to his rescue.

“You can yell all you want, but I’ve miracled the shop so that no one can hear anything that goes on within these walls,” Crowley snapped his head back towards Aziraphale, eyes narrowing, “I’ve also seen to it that no one will enter the shop, or even notice that it’s here. But go one, keep yelling if it makes you happy.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale closely, and the angel could practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he struggled to figure out how to escape this situation. Aziraphale stared him down, making it known that he was not intimidated by the demon.

“So you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” He said coolly, crossing his arms across his chest, “This is pathetic, Aziraphale. Whatever you think you can do to ‘save’ me isn’t going to work. You might as well just give up now before you embarrass yourself even more.”

Aziraphale bit the inside of his lip, trying to ignore the smile that was trying to form on his face. Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know when he felt cornered, out of options. Whenever he was stuck in a sticky situation, he always acted first, only choosing to talk himself out of whatever mess he was in if he felt he didn’t have a choice. For him to try to convince Aziraphale to let him go meant that he didn’t have any other tricks up his sleeve, no other way out.

Everything was going to plan.

“I think I’ve made it quite clear that I will never stop trying to get your emotions back, Crowley.” Aziraphale took a step closer to the circle, his confidence growing in him.

“What’s your big plan, then, huh? Try to _bore _me into flipping my switch? Have you forgotten that I can’t feel anything? That I don’t _mind _waiting until you realize how _pointless _this is? We both know that I’m a hell of a lot patient than you.” He sneered at the angel, his tactic changing from trying to appeal to Aziraphale to trying to get under his skin.

Aziraphale shrugged, nonchalant pouring out of his every movement. “I suppose that might be true. Except that the difference between you and I is that I can leave this room if I get exasperated with you, can go downstairs and grab a warm cup of cocoa and curl up with a nice book. Or perhaps go grab a spot of lunch, and then come back and try again.” He had no intention of leaving Crowley here alone for any length of time, but if he could spark a small amount of fear in him, well, that would be a good place to start.

“This is just like you. You can’t live _five minutes _without _someone_ fawning over_ your every move_. Be honest, Aziraphale, you’re not doing this for me-”

“Crowley-” 

“You’re just doing this for _yourself_,” He spoke over Aziraphale, not giving any indication that he even heard or cared that Aziraphale was trying to speak, “If you let me go _now _I promise not to hurt you or anyone else-”

“My dear-”

“I’ll just let bygones be bygones, we’ll go our separate ways and-”

“CROWLEY.” Aziraphale shouted, causing the demon to halt in surprise, clearly not expecting him to shout.

“I’m not here to negotiate with you. I’m here to talk to you about nineteen forty-one.” He said calmly, straightening out his coat.

The demon groaned, tilting his head in annoyance. “Oh, _please_ don’t tell me you’re going to take a trip down memory lane, I think I’d rather discorporate than listen to you-”

“Crowley, please be a dear and do _shut. Up._” Aziraphale took a threatening step forward, letting his angelic nature bleed a bit out of him. Thankfully, Crowley’s eyes widened and all attempts at embarrassing him or annoying him stopped, and he stared at the angel in silence, waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you,” He sighed, reeling back his virtuous nature before he continued, “I wish to speak to you about nineteen forty-one.”

He paused, waiting for some sarcastic comment from Crowley, but the demon seemed content to fix him with a cautious stare rather than speak.

“Do you remember? When you ran into that church to prevent me from being embarrassingly discorporated from those Nazis and saved my books?”

Crowley was silent for a few seconds, before realizing that Aziraphale was waiting for him to speak. “Yeah? What about it?”

“You see, for years I’d been able to dissuade myself from thinking that you loved me. Any time you saved me from those countless numbers of sticky situations I got myself in or any time you invited me to lunch or to drink, it was so easy to convince myself that you were just being nice, or just racking up favors to use when you needed it or just acting accordingly to The Arrangement.” He stopped briefly, mainly to try to remember what he wanted to say but to also watch Crowley’s reaction as he absorbed his words. The demon’s expression was wary, trying to figure out what Aziraphale was getting at but still not reaching an answer. 

“Even after you bombed the church, I still couldn’t help but feel that it was nothing but a professional curtesy. By then, I knew that you genuinely enjoyed my company and perhaps might have even considered me a friend, but I didn’t dare believe that it went any farther than that.

“But then, you saved the books,” A fond smile broke out across his face, and Aziraphale could sense that Crowley was about to say something so he pressed on before he had the chance, “And then I realized, everything I felt was _real_. You _loved_ me, and it was undeniable. Deep down I had always known, but now I had solid proof, all rested in a small leather bag containing books you couldn’t care less about but had saved because you knew I did. There was nothing to be gained for you by doing it; it was a small enough thing that you wouldn’t be able to cash it in later, and in no part in our Arrangement had we ever discussed doing anything like that of the sort. What I had felt between us wasn’t in my head, wasn’t a fool’s fantasy because you _loved _me just as much as I love you.”

Crowley’s face suddenly looked stricken, his breathing stopped and whole form freezing as soon as Aziraphale said those three little words.

“You- you love me?” Crowley’s voice was small, all of the confidence and boredom gone.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, “Yes, of course. I already told you back at your flat.”

Suddenly Crowley looked exasperated, voice dripping in frustration when he said, “_No_, you said you had _feelings _for me! That’s completely _different _from being i- in _love _with me!”

“Oh. Well, my apologizes. I thought it was implied.” Aziraphale hadn’t realized that Crowley didn’t know he was in love with him; in fact, he thought that Crowley had known for years, but now, looking at how affected the demon was, it was clear that he had been in the dark all this time.

“You love me. You’re in love with me.” Crowley stared at him incredulously, as if he couldn’t accept the words but desperately wanted to.

Aziraphale’s pulse began to race as he saw the frigidness in the demon’s yellow eyes begin to melt, and something much warmer and much more akin to love begin to fill them.

“How could I not? You’re- you’re everything to me, my love.” Aziraphale took a step closer, knowing it was risky but feeling as if Crowley was close, he was so _close _to coming back.

Crowley stared at him in bewilderment, and Aziraphale’s heart soared when he saw Crowley reach his hand out, only to be stopped by the barrier. Before he could think against it, Aziraphale stepped into the circle, placing his hands on the demon’s face and resting his forehead against his. Crowley didn’t try to resist, instead placed his hand on top of Aziraphale’s and closed his eyes, breathing stuttering at the touch. Aziraphale could practically feel how torn Crowley was, could feel him at war with himself over whether or not to turn his feelings back on. He was so close- just a little bit more.

“Do you remember what you told me in eighteen fourteen?” Aziraphale’s voice was hushed, his lips so close to Crowley’s he was sure the demon felt his words on his mouth more than he heard them.

“I said I’d always come back to you.” His voice was a broken whisper, dripping with emotion and fear. 

“So come back to me, my dearest,” Aziraphale’s face felt wet, and he realized that Crowley was crying, “Come back _home_.”

He felt Crowley’s hand tighten on his, felt his breathing increase as he struggled to decide, and for a blissful moment Aziraphale was sure that he had turned it back on, had finally put this whole awful mess behind them.

Suddenly, Crowley started to shake his head, before he ripped himself away from Aziraphale’s embrace and walked back until he hit the edge of the circle. His eyes were wide, the fear in his face quickly shifting to anger as his eyes went cold once again.

“_No. _You don’t love me, you’re just _using _me to get what you want.” Aziraphale opened his mouth, ready to prove Crowley wrong when he began to walk towards the angel threateningly, causing him to jump outside the circle to safety. Crowley followed him, stopping before he crashed into the circle but still glaring at him with the more hate than he’d ever seen on the demon’s face.

“You think that you can just manipulate me into loving you again with a fucking fake story about how my _selfless _act of saving your damned books gave you hope for us? No, I don’t think so. Do you remember what you told me in nineteen sixty-seven? ‘You go too fast for me, _Crowley_’. Do you have any idea how much that fucked me up? To give me hope that you maybe felt the same way, just for you to tear it away? Do you remember me _begging _you to run away with me, _twice_ because I didn’t care about anything but _you _and _your _safety, and how you rejected me? _Twice_? Told me that you didn’t even _care _about me and throw in my face _time _after _time _after _time _that I’m a _demon_, like that fact somehow makes you better than me? No, because all that doesn’t matter because you _love _me and that should _redeem _your actions.”

Aziraphale stared wide-eyed at Crowley, the way he had calmly but angrily spoken to him without so much as raising his voice almost worst than if he had just yelled at him. The demon shook his head, the anger in his face melting away as he leered at Aziraphale, daring him to speak. Watching him now, Aziraphale felt as if someone was walking over his grave, the realization of what Crowley would do to him if he wasn’t trapped in that circle chilling him to the bone.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I’m asking for you to return to _yourself_! If after all of this, you decide you never want to see me again, that you hate me and regret everything you’ve _ever _felt for me I will _gladly _accept it because I know that’s what I deserve.” Aziraphale’s voice caught at the end, and he could already feel the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You’re right. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve _anything_.” He stared at Aziraphale defiantly, his expression calloused.

_Well. _Aziraphale thought to himself as the demon leaned against the edge of the barrier. _This is _not _going according to plan_.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Six hours.

That’s how long Aziraphale had tried to talk through to Crowley, had tried to remind him of all the moments they had shared that had been filled with so much love it was hardly believable. Crowley, however, had chosen to simply ignore the angel, settling on sitting on the ground and closing his eyes, shutting out whatever he was saying. It had seemed like the only advantage he’d had was Crowley’s surprise at Aziraphale’s love for him, and he’d managed to royally screw that one up.

Aziraphale paused in his story, sighing with the realization that this wasn’t going to work.

“Alright, Crowley. You win. Clearly you have no interest in doing this the easy way.” Aziraphale crossed his arms, huffing in frustration.

The demon opened his golden eyes suspiciously, eyeing Aziraphale carefully.

“Finally coming to the smart conclusion that this is a huge waste of everybody’s time?”

“Oh, no, not that. But I do implore you to turn your emotions back on, before we have to turn to more… unpleasant alternatives.” Aziraphale, for the life of him, _hated _this part of the plan and had hoped that he could break through to Crowley without it, but it seemed the demon had left him with little choice.

“What do you mean by _unpleasant?_” Crowley stood, his eyes never leaving Aziraphale.

“Believe me, it’ll be less painful for all of us if you turn it on right now.” He stared at Crowley pointedly, and though he hoped Crowley would change his mind, he knew what the demon was going to say.

“Really, Aziraphale? Resorting to empty threats? C’mon, _surly _you can do better than _that._”

Aziraphale sighed, “I just need a straight answer, Crowley.”

“For the millionth time, _no_.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anathema, could you be a dear and come here?” He looked past Crowley, who followed his gaze to see the witch walk into the room.

“Book girl. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Crowley surveyed her with extreme disinterest.

“I know you know my name, Crowley. Aziraphale _literally _just said it.” She stared back at him coldly, and Aziraphale felt relieved that he wasn’t on the receiving end of that look.

“Did he? I guess you’re just not that memorable.” Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel impressed by Anathema; she simply rolled her eyes at his statement, and he could tell Crowley felt just a _little _intimidated.

Before Crowley could say anything else, Anathema began muttering her spell, barely loud enough for Aziraphale to hear.

“Wha- what are you…” Crowley blinked, his eyes growing hazy before he lost his balance. He stumbled forward, trying to keep his eyes open, but he was fighting a losing battle; his eyes finally closed, and he slumped against the border of his cell, asleep.

“I’m not going to lie,” She looked back to Aziraphale, smiling, “That felt a little satisfying.”

Aziraphale made sure to make a mental note to never cross Anathema.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure the ropes are tight enough? But that they’re also not too tight?” Aziraphale bit his lip as Anathema finished tying the last rope around Crowley’s wrist, his head collapsed against his chest. The demon had both his wrists tied to the armrests of the chair they had placed in the Devil’s Trap, along with his ankles on the chair’s leg.

“Yes, Aziraphale,” Anathema sighed exasperatedly as she walked out of the circle, admiring her handy work, “The ropes are secure enough to hold him in place, but not enough to cut off his circulation. He’s _fine_.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, before saying, “Perhaps this is the wrong idea. Maybe we should wait, see if we can find a spell that could forcibly turn his emotions on?” He looked up at Anathema nervously.

Anathema gave him a sympathetic look, “I know how much you don’t want to do this, and how much this will hurt you. But… we don’t have another choice.”

Aziraphale turned his gaze to the unconscious demon, his heart hurting with the knowledge of what was about to happen.

“What if it doesn’t work?” His voice was small, his worry and fear dripping with each syllable.

“It will,” Anathema said confidently, drawing Aziraphale’s eyes back to her, “And… you don’t have to be here for this. I can do this by myself.”

“No. This is my doing. I owe it to him to be here through his suffering.” As much as he didn’t want to witness this, he couldn’t just back out when the going got ruff. No, he was going to sit through it all. No matter how ugly it got.

“Alright. You ready for this?” She moved to stand next to him, both of their attention drawn back to Crowley.

“No. But… I have to be,” He took a stabilizing breath, “Wake him up.”

Anathema nodded, and recited the spell to bring Crowley out of his temporarily unconscious state. Anathema had told him that normally, the spell only caused the target in question to sleep for as long as they normally did, but since Crowley had a track record of sleeping through a century, they both decided not to risk it.

Crowley began to stir, his head slowly rising and eyes blinking rapidly, looking around the room in confusion before he rested his gaze on the two of them. His eyes narrowed, and his muscles began to strain as he tried to stand, his gaze shooting down at his wrists before he realized he was trapped. 

“Wha-” he pulled at the ropes, and Aziraphale felt his nerves ease when his restraints refused to budge, “You think a little bit of _rope_ is going to intimidate me?” Crowley looked back up at them mockingly.

“Of course not. Those are just there to keep you still.” The demon froze at Aziraphale’s words, his confidence temporarily shaken by the implication of them.

“Before we start, I will ask you one last time,” Aziraphale took a cautious step towards Crowley, the demon considering him carefully, “Turn your emotions back on.”

“Or _what_?” Crowley sneered.

“We’ll be forced to use this.” Aziraphale waved to the large ceramic bowl that sat on a newly conjured table next to Anathema. Crowley’s eyes followed the movement, head tilted to the side as he tried to understand what was going on. Finally, his eyes widened in disbelief as the puzzle pieces fell into place in his head, his attention turning back the angel.

“You wouldn’t.” The surety in his voice was diluted with a hint of uncertainty, and perhaps a little fear.

“I’m afraid you haven’t left us with much of a choice.”

The demon’s gaze travelled between him, Anathema, and the bowl, the uncertainty on his face altering into a smug expression. 

“How stupid do you think I am?” His gaze rested on Aziraphale, lips curling in amusement, “That’s _Holy Water_\- that could _kill _me. You really think I believe you’d let me die?”

“Believe me, I have no intention of the sort. This isn’t pure holy water though- diluted extremely. Ninety-nine-point nine percent water, with only the barest hint of anything ethereal in it. Not enough to kill you but definitely enough to hurt.” Aziraphale was struggling to maintain his composure; he had to appear in control and indifferent, because if the demon could see just how badly this was affecting him, he would use that weakness against him.

“You _love _me,” Crowley practically spat in his face, “There’s no _way _you’d be able to handle hurting me, let alone _torturing _me.”

“True, that’s why Anathema here has graciously offered to do it for me.” Anathema smiled, and Aziraphale could have sworn that the demon stopped breathing for a split second.

Crowley clenched his jaw as he contemplated, eyes shifting between the pair, trying to sense anything that would suggest that they weren’t up to the task. Finally, his nostrils flared, and he stared at Aziraphale challengingly.

“You’re _bluffing_.”

Aziraphale sighed, heart sinking but not surprised at the demon’s response. He turned to Anathema, who nodded at his wordless request, and began to dip her fingers in the holy water by her side.

“No, wait, what are you- AH.” Crowley cringed as Anathema flicked the blessed liquid at his exposed arms, the skin turning bright pink and bubbling slightly with contact.

When the pain faded, Crowley gazed at Aziraphale, golden eyes piercing into him as he spoke, “Really, Aziraphale? Resorting to torture in order to get what you want? I thought you were better than _that_.”

“Don’t look at him. _He’s _not the one who’s in control right now.” She doused her fingers with more water, earning an annoyed glare from Crowley.

“Turn your emotions back on. _Now_.” She stared him down with equal force, not an inch of fear emanating from her.

“Fuck you.” His insult was quickly cut off with another cry of pain, as the witch dumped even more holy water on his arm.

“Let’s try this again,” She stepped in front of him, placing her hands on the edges of the armrest and leaning in close, “Turn. It. On.”

Crowley’s only response was to spit in her face, which he swiftly realized was a bad idea because Anathema cupped her hands in the liquid and tossed it on his chest.

Crowley screamed in anguish, his head tilted back in pain as he strained against the ropes tying him there. The mere sight of it tore at Aziraphale’s soul, and he had to turn his gaze away, unable to watch anymore. 

“You _bitch_.” Crowley said through his teeth, giving Anathema a scathing look.

“Seriously? You’re being _tortured _right now and the best you can do is _bitch_? Tell me; did turning your emotions off get rid of all your creativity too?” She wiped off her face with the sleeve of her shirt before placing her hands on her hips.

“You want creative? Alright. When I get out of here, and I _will_, I’m going to tear you apart, limb by limb, agonizingly slow. I’m going to make you feel _every _moment of torment you put me through and _then _some. And when you feel you can’t take anymore, when you’re _begging _me to let you die, I’ll just heal you up and start all over again.” He flashed her a ruthless smile, clearly taking satisfaction at the idea of Anathema’s suffering.

Aziraphale felt as if his heart was breaking, watching this creature with Crowley’s face speak. Crowley hated violence, no matter how much he bragged about being a demon. He knew Crowley had the kindest heart out of anyone he had ever known, and had always used his temptations on people who _deserved _to be punished, though he would never admit it. When Hell had given him a commendation on the Spanish Inquisition, he had been horrified and disgusted once he discovered what was going on, and he didn’t even _witness _any of it. Yet, here he was, openly relishing at the notion of maliciously killing someone he once considered a friend. 

Anathema considered his words, shrugging her shoulders as if someone was discussing their favorite movie and not her painful demise.

“It’s an improvement, I’ll give you that. But I’ve had worse.” Anathema seemed unbothered, a fact that clearly confused and bothered Crowley.

“I wonder if your threats would be better if you turned it on.” She said casually, already cupping more Holy Water into her hands.

Crowley scowled at her, refusing to indulge her with a response. It didn’t matter; Anathema threw the Holy Water at him anyway.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

They continued like that for a few hours, Anathema demanding Crowley to turn his emotions back on and Crowley refusing. At first, he tried to threaten her, get under her skin to try to get her to stop. Anathema, no matter how many times the demon fantasized about what kind of bodily harm he would do to her, never seemed fazed, usually just sighed in annoyance and sprinkled Holy Water at him. Eventually, he stopped trying to rattle her and just settled on remaining silent, hissing at the pain when it wasn’t too bad but sometimes howling so loud Aziraphale worried that despite the miracle he’d placed on the shop someone would hear it regardless.

Of course, they took breaks, in order to give Crowley a chance to recover and to save Aziraphale’s sanity. He knew from the start that he was going to hate this, but didn’t realize just how deeply it would affect him. Each cry of pain cut through him, the way Crowley struggled uselessly to get out of the way of the Holy Water bit deep into his very core. Aziraphale swore he could almost feel the bite of the blessed liquid against Crowley’s skin, could feel the way it burrowed into him and left the skin open, bleeding in some cases. He wanted this to be over, wished Crowley would just give up so he could heal his wounds and get him back to himself, but no matter what they threw at Crowley, it seemed he was just as determined to leave his emotions behind him.

Aziraphale flinched as Anathema flicked more water at Crowley, though the demon only scrunched his face for a brief moment in reaction.

“C’mon, Crowley, we’ve been at this for hours. Just turn it back on and we’ll be done here.” Anathema, who had seemed alarmingly interested in this aspect of getting Crowley back, had seemed to run out of patience as well.

“_Or_ you can let me go. Then we’d be done as well.” The demon’s expression was void of anything, only a trace hint of irritation flushed on his face.

“We both know _that’s _not going to happen.” She threw a generous portion at him, and this time the demon cursed, biting his lip so hard Aziraphale was sure he drew blood.

“You know what?” Crowley said when his breathing finally returned back to normal, “I don’t think I’m going to torture you. You’re close to that Newt guy, right?”

Anathema froze, before quickly trying to cover up her reaction before Crowley noticed. It was too late, however; he’d seen her response, a chilling smile growing on his faced as he sensed her weakness.

“Didn’t you refer to him as your boyfriend back at the airbase? Scrawny thing, that kid is. Bet he wouldn’t put up much of a fight if I paid him a visit. Wonder how long he’d last if I got my hands on him.” His eyes sparkled with delight, envisioning things that Aziraphale knew would sicken him to his bones.

Anathema tried to hide any emotions, tried not to let Crowley get the satisfaction of a reaction out of her, but Aziraphale could see her fists balled, trembling slightly.

“Maybe I’ll even let you watch. Wouldn’t that be fun? You, all chained up as I kill him slowly, removing him of all his organs, one at a time? Of course, I’ll start small, y’know, with the spleen, or maybe the appendix. The ones he could live without. Then, I’ll make _sure _you’re there to hear his cries, him _begging _for mercy as you realize this is _your _fault. That _you _caused this to happen. If only you’d let me go,” He paused, drinking in Anathema’s poorly disguised horror as if it was an excellent glass of wine, “And when you _beg _me to spare him, offer your own life as replacement for his, I’ll rip his heart out, and make sure you’ve got a front row seat when the light leaves his eyes.”

Anathema didn’t say anything; instead, she grabbed the bowl and poured nearly all of its contents on Crowley, the demon’s sick threats cut off as he screeched in agony, a sound that Aziraphale had never heard before as the demon writhed against himself as the water settled in everywhere.

Anathema took a few steps back, her entire body trembling and tears streaking down her face. She just stared at Crowley in shock, the horror of what he had said still written across her face.

“My dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, placing a comforting hand on her back. It was a stupid question, he knew, because of _course _she wasn’t alright, but he wasn’t sure how else to comfort her.

Anathema didn’t answer him at first, keeping her eyes glued to the demon that was beginning to gag from the intensity of pain he was in. Finally, she caught her breath, wiping her eyes as she stilled herself.

“I’m fine.” She said, shaking her head. Aziraphale opened his mouth to try to offer her comfort, to reassure her that Newt was fine, that Crowley couldn’t actually hurt him, but she slowly approached Crowley again, tilting her head curiously as if an idea just popped into her mind.

“Aziraphale, could you get me a syringe?” Her voice was oddly calm as she looked over the demon in front of her, who seemed to just be recovering from his pain.

Aziraphale looked at her quizzically, but summoned what she requested without asking. He placed it into her expectant hand, wondering if perhaps she was going to try a spell and maybe needed the demon’s blood.

She turned the syringe in her hand around, eyeing it carefully before she returned her attention back to Crowley, who was watching her suspiciously.

“It hurts a lot, doesn’t it, when Holy Water comes in contact with you skin?” Crowley opened his mouth to make what was most likely a sarcastic comment before Anathema interrupted him before he could speak, “But you see, the difference is is that it only hurts for a few seconds or minutes, before the pains fades away and you’re left sitting there, fine.”

She paused, and Crowley stared at her apprehensively, mind trying to figure out what she was trying to get at.

“You see, I _bet _it would hurt a hell of a lot worse if it was put directly into your bloodstream, huh? Travel a lot farther and cause a lot more damage than just flicking it on you.” Aziraphale could see Crowley’s eyes dilate in fright as Anathema made her way back to the bowl, filling the syringe with as much as it could hold.

“But I’m not sure. I guess we’ll just have to test it out, shall we?” She smiled at him cruelly, a look so similar to Crowley’s Aziraphale had to wonder if she also had the ability to turn her feelings off.

“No, no, no wait _wait_!” Crowley begged as Anathema placed the needle on top of the vein in his arm, not quite breaking the skin yet.

“Turn your emotions on and I swear I will.” Crowley looked at her hopelessly, before he turned to Aziraphale.

His heart clenched when Crowley’s eyes met his, the serpent’s eyes filled with so much panic and fear that it seemed impossible for him _not _to be feeling anything. Aziraphale felt the beginnings of hope, thinking maybe, just _maybe _he was back and not quite realizing it.

“Aziraphale, _please, _I’ll- I’ll do anything, just _please don’t_. We’ll go back to the way things used to be, I’ll-”

“He’s not listening, Crowley. The only way you’re escaping this is if you _turn it on_.”

Crowley’s face crumpled, and he started shaking his head desperately, pleas melting into each other as he tried to get a coherent thought out but failed in his panic.   
“Anathema, _wait_.” Aziraphale’s heart couldn’t take it anymore; Crowley seemed so much like himself, so _alive _that he couldn’t bear to do this unless he was absolutely certain that this wasn’t self-preservation as much as it was genuine terror.

Crowley visibly relaxed, and Anathema turned towards him, face incredulous.

“_Aziraphale, _you _know _he’s just saying-”

“Just, please, my dear. Crowley, finish what you were saying.” He paid her no attention, eyes only focused on Crowley who began to nod quickly.

“I’ll do whatever you want. We’ll go to the Ritz, go on a picnic, take a road trip, I don’t care, whatever you want. I- I forgive you, this is all on me, I overreacted and I’m sorry. I’m so _so _sorry, Aziraphale. I shouldn’t have put you through this, this is all my fault. I- I love you, I do. Just let me out, and you and I, we can start our lives together. Like we’ve always wanted. Okay A- _angel_?” Crowley’s eyes bore into his, desperate and imploring.

Aziraphale walked forward, stopping in front of Crowley’s terrified expression. He cupped his hand on the side of his face, running his thumb along his cheekbone.

“I would love to do all that with you.”

“_Aziraphale_!” Anathema huffed, outraged.

Crowley leaned into his hand, all the tension leaving out of his body as he absorbed Aziraphale’s words.

“Great, now just untie me and we’ll be on our-” 

“As soon as you turn your emotions on,” Aziraphale finished, withdrawing his hand as he walked out of the trap, “Anathema, you’re free to continue.”

Betrayal lit Crowley’s face as his eyes widened in horror, his attention quickly moving back to Anathema as she got back into position.

“No, no no, Aziraphale, _please _you don’t have to do this, Aziraphale-” His voice cut off in pain as Anathema pushed the plunger in, the Holy Water mixing with his blood in no doubt an excruciating experience.

Anathema quickly backed out of the circle as Crowley began to strain so hard against the ropes that Aziraphale feared that he would break his bones. He screamed in agony, his breathing accelerating so fast that Aziraphale was surprised he didn’t pass out. Where Anathema had injected him, the veins became visible, a shock of black against his normally pale skin as the water made its way through his body, destroying everything in its path.

Crowley’s head shot up, his eyes alight with fury and torment as he glared at Aziraphale.

“You want to know what loving you was like?” His voice was strained, the misery he was going through dripping in his speech, “It was a_ curse_. It was like being your _slave_, following you around everywhere like a sick puppy. Making sure I brought you gifts just to make you smile at me, calculating where you were going to be so I could surprise you, only thinking about you you _you_. Anything you asked I would do, no matter how much it hurt me. No matter how much _you _hurt me. Time after time I gave you my heart, made my intentions damn clear to you but _no_, you had to shatter me every fucking time, like it was some kind of twisted _game_. And I always came _crawling back to you like the pathetic snake I was. _So go ahead, torture me for days, years, _centuries_, because I can _assure _you this is a fucking _cake walk _compared to the torture it is to be in love with _you_.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley agape, unable to move due to being pinned down by the demon’s hateful stare. He was only faintly aware of Anathema’s hand pulling him away, trying to coerce him out of the room.

“Oh yeah, _run away _Aziraphale, because that’s what you _always do!_” He shouted after them as Anathema lead him outside, “When things get tough you don’t _handle _anything! You don’t _deal _with the consequences of your actions, like the fucking _coward you are, _you hear me? _Coward-_”

Crowley’s voice was cut off when Anathema closed the door, leaving Aziraphale staring shell shocked where Crowley once was.

“Aziraphale,” Anathema placed her hands on his shoulders, voice gentle, “What he said back there, it wasn’t true, okay? He’s in pain and he just wants to make sure you feel it just as much as he does.”

Aziraphale nodded, taking in her words but not quite believing him. What if Crowley was right? What if Crowley falling in love with him was the worst thing that ever happened to him? The demon had always been there for him when he needed it, always sacrificing his own needs to put Aziraphale’s first.

The last thing he wanted was for Crowley to be enslaved to him.

“You scared me a bit back there,” Anathema said softly, shaking him out of his own thoughts, “I could have sworn for a second you were going to free him.”

“I almost did.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded haunted, his eyes still trained on the last place he saw Crowley.

She paused. “What made you stop?”

“When he called me angel,” Anathema’s eyebrows furrowed together, but Aziraphale quickly supplied her with an answer, “You see, he’s called me that for six thousand years, and every time he’s always said it with so much love and affection. To be honest, I never realized just how much fondness he put into the word- I just assumed that’s how he just said it.

“Right now, he looked so afraid that he almost seemed like his old self, that he was feeling every ounce of emotion that he was displaying that I just, couldn’t help but hope that he had come back. I just wanted this to be over, and it was so easy to give into that helpless expression,” He smiled sadly, meeting Anathema’s sympathetic gaze, “But when he said angel, he said it so casually, as if it was just another word, a tool to use in order to manipulate me. And that’s how I knew that it wasn’t him.”

Anathema nodded, taking her hands off of his shoulders and for a moment nothing was said between them, the room silent spared by the distant moans from Crowley in the other room.

“What if this doesn’t work, my dear?” Aziraphale’s voice was quiet, as if he feared speaking the words would make them come true, “This is our last plan, our last chance to get him back. What if we fail?”

“We won’t, okay? I’m sure that once the Holy Water passes through his system he’ll be more than ready to come back to himself rather than go through this again.” She sounded so confident, so sure, that Aziraphale took comfort in it. This would work.

It had too.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

They waited outside the door to Crowley’s room, waiting and listening for when Crowley’s cries of pain stopped, indicating that his torture had ended. It took longer than Aziraphale expected it to, and he couldn’t help the waves of guilt washing over him as he knew that all this pain was _his _fault. Anathema wouldn’t have done it without his permission.

Anathema was the one to push the door open, Aziraphale closely tailed behind her as they made their way to Crowley. He looked, well, _awful_. There were dark circles under his eyes, clearly exhausted as he struggled to even maintain a comfortable position in the chair. The burn marks on his skin had changed from a light pink to an angry red, and though his arms seemed to have returned back to their normal color, the veins closest to where Anathema had injected him remained dark.

He tilted his head to look at them with great effort, his breathing labored as he spoke, “Is… is that all you’ve got?”

Aziraphale felt as though his entire soul had been snatched from his body, like someone had stolen the bones that allowed him to stand and now he was falling, unable to support his weight. This had been their last shot; if Crowley could endure his blood turning into the one thing that could kill him, what else could they put him through that would cause him to turn his emotions back on?

Aziraphale closed his eyes, letting out a defeated sigh when he realized the reality of the situation they were in.

Crowley was gone.

And it was all his fault.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley was bored.

Well, not _bored_, per say, but rather really wished he was doing anything else than just sitting here, tied in a chair with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling. He wished that they would _just _give up soon, because he desperately needed a shower. At least they let him take a nap; he wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but after they had discovered him, still ready to resist them after the absolute _agony _they had just put him through, Anathema had casted that same blasted sleeping spell and he was out before he even knew what was happening.

He really needed to get out.

They had gotten close, he will admit, when Aziraphale confessed that he loved him. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t feel anything _all _the time, it was more like his emotions were on a free vacation, leaving him feeling nothing, except when something pushed him. Even then, he couldn’t feel the emotion very strongly; it was as if his chest was hollow, and the ghost of that feeling barely flitted around his thoracic cavity, extremely diluted. He found that the more negative emotions were easier to feel; anger, when Aziraphale thought he had the right to tell him what to do, or fear, when he saw how serious Anathema was about injecting that Holy Water into him. He was _definitely _going to make her pay for that one.

His eyes scanned the symbols trapping him there, trying to find a word or a certain phrase that he would be able to manipulate to help him escape, silently cursing when again he found none. Damn that angel and his detail-oriented ways.

Suddenly, Crowley heard the door to the room open, followed by Aziraphale carefully shutting the door. Aziraphale walked up to him, carefully, stopping just outside of the trap’s barriers. The angel simply stared at the demon, considering him carefully.

“Is this how we’re going to play this? You’re going to creep me out by staring until I turn it on?” Crowley teased, hoping to get a rise out of Aziraphale. Staring at him now, Crowley had no idea what he had seen in him; yes, the angel was attractive, he couldn’t deny that, but his _flaws _highly outweighed anything he might have ever considered to be good about him. He was just glad that he could see Aziraphale for what he truly was- a manipulative angel used to getting what he wants.

“No, no, you’ve made it perfectly clear on where you stand on the matter.” The angel said.

Crowley tilted his head, trying to figure out what was different about Aziraphale. He looked… tired. Not just in a physical way, but emotionally, too. His shoulders were slack, and he carried a weight of defeat that poured out of his very being.

“I’ve come to make a deal with you, Crowley.”

The demon blinked, taken aback by Aziraphale’s words. “A deal with a devil, huh? That’s a first.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer; instead, he took out a knife, and for a moment a flash of fear began to permeate in his chest, quickly diminishing when the angel used it to cut him free of his restraints. Crowley stood up slowly, rubbing his sore wrists as his eyes narrowed in suspicion at Aziraphale, who just watched him rise.

“What kind of deal are you suggesting?” He had a feeling he knew; Aziraphale was probably going to offer him something he wanted (besides his freedom), and in return he had to turn his emotions on. Though he would say no, he was bored out of his mind and playing along with Aziraphale was the closest thing to entertainment he’d get.

“In exchange for your freedom,” Aziraphale said carefully, standing up straighter, “I want you to kill me.”

Crowley felt as if all the air was stolen from his lungs, his mind reeling as he processed what Aziraphale had just said. No, there was no way he actually said _that_\- he must have misheard, or misunderstood Aziraphale, because there was _no actual way _Aziraphale could be saying what he just did.

“Wha- what are you talking about?” Crowley scanned Aziraphale’s face, trying to find a trace of a lie or an act, only to be horrified to find determination instead.

“I want you to kill me, and in return you will have your freedom.” He repeated, no trace of hesitation or regret on his face.

“Wha- no, how would I even do that? Best I could do is discorporate you, and why in _Heaven _would you want _that_?” Crowley still didn’t believe Aziraphale; he had to be trying out a new strategy to get him to turn his emotions back on, he _had _to be.

“That’s where this knife comes in,” the angel lifted the weapon he’d used to free Crowley, “You see, Anathema made it; it’s got enough power to kill an occult _or _ethereal being like us. She made it with the hopes of threatening you, so sure that if we threatened your life it would force you to come back.”

“But you don’t believe that.” Crowley finished for him, voice surprisingly soft.

“No,” Aziraphale smiled sadly, “You know I would never kill you, enabling this thing utterly useless. Except for now, with the task I hope you’ll perform.”

“What does Anathema think of this?” There was no way this was real. Anathema wouldn’t let Aziraphale risk his life for something like this.

“She doesn’t know. She had some emergency with Newt she had to deal with, but left me with this knife in the hopes that I could get through to you. Which I won’t. You’re already too far gone.” A small tear escaped his eye, and a small part of Crowley wanted nothing more than to reach out and to brush it away.

“So how does this go down? You open the circle and then I kill you?” Crowley just had to keep pushing until Aziraphale’s story fell apart, until he was forced to stop this charade.

“No. You kill me and then you’ll be free.”

Crowley snorted, “Ah, but then how do I know if I kill you I don’t end up permanently imprisoning myself in here?” There it was; he must have found the lose thread in Aziraphale’s story, and now all he had to do was keep pulling on it.

“I made this circle with my own magic- if I die, so does the power holding you here, effectively releasing you. Now, can we please get on with this?” Aziraphale held the knife out to Crowley, whom examined it closely in the light.

It looked cursed enough, alright. The blade itself looked normal, not very long, but the handle itself contained sigils that looked dark and corrupted, and when Aziraphale moved the knife it almost looked like a faint trail of black smoke followed where it went.

“You’re being serious? Why on Earth would you want to die?” Crowley turned his gaze back up to Aziraphale, his heart beginning to race as if he were terrified.

“Because, Crowley, there’s nothing left for me here,” He laughed, a pitiful sound, one that would have broken Crowley’s heart if he still had one, “Before now, I had a purpose; whether it had been to serve Heaven well, stop the apocalypse, or simply being in your presence, I had something to live for. Sure, I still have my books, and my barber and a few humans who might tolerate my presence but, none of that means much if there’s no you. Yes, I could try to keep going, try my best to move on and live my life without you, but what would be the point? In a few months, centuries, millennia, Heaven will either figure out our body-switching trick or discover a newer, more painful way to kill me. That thought _terrifies _me, and the only thing that made that inevitable end seem bearable was the fact that you’d be by my side. That at least we’d get a few good years before everything came crumbling down around us. Without you, it doesn’t seem worth it to wait out however long I have left alone.

“So please, Crowley,” Aziraphale placed the knife in Crowley’s hand, and he could feel the power emanating from it, “Kill me now. You’d be doing me a favor, really.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, dumbstruck, not quiet believing what he was saying. Obviously he should take the deal- it wouldn’t _just _free from this blasted trap, but it would also free him from Aziraphale, the only being that would try to change him, reminding him of his past. He’d be free to do whatever he wanted, maybe even winning back the hearts of his bosses down in Hell. Besides, it might feel a little good to get revenge for all that Aziraphale had put him through. A little cathartic, even. This was a win for him, everything he wanted being handed to him on a silver platter. Crowley would have to be a _fool _to not take it.

However, for some reason he wouldn’t be able to put into words even if he tried, he couldn’t. It wasn’t as if he cared about Aziraphale; he just couldn’t do it, a deeply rooted instinct inside of him preventing him from doing so. No matter how hard Crowley tried to convince himself this was the right choice, he physically couldn’t do it, the thought of Aziraphale lying dead, no longer here on Earth making him feel sick to his stomach. It was almost as if his own body had turned against him, protecting Aziraphale as much as it would protect itself from harm. 

“Whatever sick game you’re playing at, I want _no part_.” Crowley shook his head, shoving the knife back into Aziraphale’s hand. 

Aziraphale blinked at him in surprise, clearly not expecting Crowley to reject his offer. Honestly, Crowley was a little surprised himself.

“Why not? It’s easy; just kill me and you’ll be free!” Aziraphale almost sounded annoyed, his expression exasperated.

He flinched when Aziraphale said ‘kill me’, a feeling of horror flitting around in his chest at the idea.

“I said _no_, Aziraphale, just- go away, I’m _not _helping you kill yourself!” He stared at Aziraphale angrily, wishing he was back to staring at the ceiling and being bored.

Aziraphale huffed angrily, Crowley’s own anger matched by the one in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Fine,” Aziraphale said primly, “I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.”

Before Crowley could ask him what he meant, Aziraphale took the blade and plunged it into his chest, gasping when the knife buried into him.

“_Aziraphale!_” Crowley immediately reached out and caught Aziraphale as he fell, every nerve alight in his body as fear and panic rushed through him, more powerful than anything he had felt in weeks.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Crowley slowly lowered them both to the ground, Aziraphale laid out on his lap with his head resting on Crowley’s arm.

Crowley ripped the blade out of Aziraphale’s chest with his free hand, tossing it to the side as he turned back to the dying angel. Aziraphale gasped in pain, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, dark red blood mixing with golden angelic blood.

“Hold on, Aziraphale, I’m going to save you. Don’t you _dare _die on me.” Terror cut through Crowley’s very form, his hands shaking with the fear that Aziraphale wasn’t going to survive this.

He snapped his fingers, using a miracle to heal Aziraphale’s wound before his untimely demise, when nothing happened.

“Wha-” He looked up from Aziraphale’s broken form, realization hitting him as he remembered that as long he was in the circle, his powers wouldn’t work.

“Angel, please, break the Devil’s Trap so I can heal you. I can’t heal you while it’s still intact.” Tears began to fall from his eyes, his heart beating so fast he was sure he was about to discorporate.

Aziraphale gave him a sad smile, before lifting his hand to cup the demon’s face. He leaned into the touch, his heart breaking with the possibility that out of all the times they had narrowly escaped their own deaths, this wouldn’t be one of them.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, my love.” He wiped the tears as they fell, grief already starting to take his breath away.

“No, no Aziraphale, _please_, don’t leave me angel, _please please please _I love you _please _don’t go. Just- just open the circle and it’ll be alright.” Crowley could barely get his words out, the sobs tearing at his throat as he watched Aziraphale’s eyes begin to dim.

“I knew you were still in there, my dear boy…” Aziraphale’s voice trailed as his eyes unfocused, the hand placed on his face went slack.

Crowley froze, “No, no angel, no.”

The angel remained unresponsive, hand falling uselessly to his side.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley shook him, unable to accept the fact that he was gone, “_Aziraphale!_”

It was pointless. Crowley had felt his angel’s presence melt away, that holy bright spot that he had always felt for the entirety of his time here on Earth gone.

Crowley felt as if his entire soul had been crushed, as if someone had stomped on every bone in his chest. He felt as if the air had been stolen from his lungs, the grief taking its place almost immediately.

“No, no no no no _no no no_.” Crowley shook his head as he buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck, sobs shaking his whole body as he wept freely over the love of his life’s body.

He had already lost Aziraphale once before. Had thought he had lost him a second time. Crowley thought that he’d be used to the pain, to the agony of loss that tore away at his being.

He was wrong.

The pain clawed away at him, leaving him feeling raw and ripped apart slowly. He had thought the Holy Water flowing in his veins had been the most painful thing he’d ever gone through, but that didn’t even hold a candle to this. He grasped at Aziraphale’s shoulder uselessly, every bit of him shattered and broken as he clung to the angel’s body.

“Come back,” Crowley cried, as if he could reverse what had happened with his words, “I’m so sorry just _please _come back.”

The room felt eerily still, as if time itself had frozen to give Crowley a moment to grieve. Aziraphale was _gone_, the memory of Aziraphale smiling brightly and full of life haunting him as he clung to his dead body. He never wanted this to happen, all he had wanted was a reprieve from the pain, and look where that had gotten him? Aziraphale dead, Heaven’s best angel _gone _due to his own stupidity, his own _selfishness _for not thinking through his decision.

He should never have flipped his switch, should have kept on living instead of becoming a monster. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, the room just as illuminated as it had been the moment they’d stepped in it. The only indication that time was still pressing forward was the distant clicking of a grandfather clock hidden somewhere in the bookshop, the only sound in what seemed like in the entire universe other than his sobs and cries.

It didn’t take much longer until he heard the sound of footsteps echo from the hall outside his door, heard Anathema’s familiar voice call out for Aziraphale. The door to his room opened, and he heard the sound of Anathema’s gasp before she fell to her knees in front of Crowley.

“Oh my- Aziraphale, wha- what happened? What’s wrong?” He could feel Anathema try to pry Aziraphale’s body out from under him, the attempt causing him to shoot his head up and protectively bring Aziraphale closer to him.

“Where were you?” He hissed, voice sounding pathetic. Anathema’s eyes widened, and she tried to stutter a response but she clearly couldn’t find the words through her shock.

“This is _your _fault. You could have stopped him, could have _saved _him! He- _stupid _angel,” Crowley had to stop for a sob to overtake him, looking at Aziraphale’s face when he recovered, “He gave up, d- didn’t want to live without me, and he- he took his own life.” He could barely speak through the tears, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Anathema studying him carefully.

“Why do you even care? I thought you hated him, thought that he ruined your life?”

“I didn’t hate him I _loved him!_” He shouted at her, the reality of his words hitting him as soon as they escaped him, “I- I loved him, and now he’s dead. He’s dead and it’s my fault, it’s _my fault!_” 

Crowley quickly scanned around for the knife, striking faster than a cobra when he found it. He grabbed the hilt, bringing it down on his chest as fast as he could. He had caused Aziraphale’s death. He shouldn’t be allowed to live.

He blinked in confusion when instead of feeling the sharp pain of the knife entering his chest, all he felt was his fist hitting his sternum. He looked down, utterly bewildered when he saw his hand empty, and worse, his lap devoid of Aziraphale’s body.

“Wha..”

“You have to understand,” Anathema said suddenly, desperation clipping her tone, “We were out of options. We didn’t know how else we could get you to turn your emotions back on.”

He looked up at her, feeling mentally exhausted as he tried to understand what was going on through his grief.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sounded wretched, and had a feeling his face probably matched his tone.

“It was the only way to get you to see.” Anathema looked guilty, and Crowley couldn’t figure out why she was looking at him like that, all he wanted was to just end his suffering.

He just looked at her hopelessly, unable to fit the puzzle pieces together that she was laying at his feet.

“It’s alright, dearest.”

Crowley’s head shot up, disbelief flowing through his veins as he saw Aziraphale slowly approach him, concern lighting up his entire face.

“Azi- _Aziraphale_.” Crowley breathed out, not quite believing what he was seeing but still shooting up to grab Aziraphale and pull him into his arms.

He was stopped only by the barrier of the circle, placing his hand on it as he took in Aziraphale’s uninjured body.

The angel rushed forward, pulling Crowley into him and relief coursed through him as he realized this was _real_. His hands fisted Aziraphale’s coat, not caring about wrinkles and breathed in the familiar scent of him. A fresh new wave of tears overcame him, only this time, it was out of the simple joy of the fact that Aziraphale was _alive_. He was here, holding him, and crying just as much as he was.

“You’re _alive_.” He cried into his shoulder, and he felt the angel run his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, my darling, yes, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

Crowley closed his eyes, and felt all of the tension leave his body as he leaned into Aziraphale, all the pain he felt before gone.

Of course, now that the overwhelming grief was gone, it left room for all of the other emotions that had been waiting to flood him completely.

Crowley pushed himself away from the angel, backing away as far as the circle would let him. He gasped as the last two weeks flashed before his eyes, only this time with emotions attached. He grabbed at his hair, overwhelmed as shock melting away with horror, disgust at his actions.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale started to approach him, worry written all over his face.

“What have I done? _What have I done_?” He slid down the invisible barrier, his breathing erratic as he dealt with the onslaught of emotions attacking him.

“Dearest-”

“I hurt people,” He looked up at Aziraphale with wide, miserable eyes, “I- I got them killed. They didn’t do anything wrong, Aziraphale, _they didn’t do anything wrong!_”

“No no no, shh, it’s alright dear,” Aziraphale leaned down and cupped his face, “No one died, everyone survived. It’s alright, it okay-” 

“No, no it’s _not okay, Aziraphale!_” He ripped the angel’s hands of off him, turning away from him as his breathing accelerated, “I hurt you! I said awful, terrible things to you! I told you that you that loving you was torture, _mocked _you for trying to help me, oh no, _no no!”_ He buried his face in his hands, unable to face the angel.

“It’s alright Crowley, it wasn’t you.” Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on Crowley’s shoulder, trying to comfort him but not wanting to push.

He tore his hands from his face, looking up at Aziraphale with desperate, regret-filled eyes, “I didn’t mean it, any of it, you have to believe me, angel, I didn’t I swear it I _swear_.”

“I know, I know you didn’t my love it’s alright, everything is alright now-”

“Anathema,” He gasped, eyes desperately trying to search for the witch. She was standing now, behind Aziraphale, eyes wide and looking more terrified than she had the entire time they’d been here.

“I threatened you- oh my Satan I threatened you. I told you I was going to hurt you, oh _no no no I told you I was going to kill Newt and make you watch oh fuck oh no no no no I didn’t mean it I’d never actually harm you oh fuck what have I done what have I done?_”

His words seemed to pull Anathema out of her shock, because she moved forward and grabbed Crowley’s hand, holding it as tightly as she could.

“It’s okay, Crowley, I knew you didn’t mean it, I know you’d never actually try to hurt me.” She gave him a gentle look, but it didn’t do anything to help calm his rampant emotions.

He kept shaking his head, letting go of Anathema’s hand to press both of his to his skull, trying _desperately_ to calm down but all he could think about is what he had done, the monster he had become oh why did he have to turn it off _this was terrible, he was terrible he deserved to die oh fuck what had he done. _

“Fuck it’s too much, it’s too much, make it stop Aziraphale _make it stop.”_ He practically sobbed the last part, feeling light-headed from his rapid breathing.

“It’s alright my love, look at me,” He felt Aziraphale gently pry his hands away from his face, causing Crowley to look at the angel with fear and regret, “There you are it’s okay, shh, you’re okay.”

He cupped his cheeks again, wiping away his tears, “Focus on me. Don’t think of anything else, alright, just look at me, can you do that?”

Crowley nodded, focusing his attention on Aziraphale’s perfect blue eyes and soft face. His breathing began to slow, his panic melting away as he stared at the angel. Occasionally, a particular emotion would try to grasp his focus, causing him to spiral down all over again, only to be stopped by Aziraphale’s soothing tone. He caressed the demon’s face, letting the back of his hand travel from his temple down to his cheek.

Slowly, but carefully, he began to push away his thoughts; not bottling them away, but rather setting them to the side to be dealt with at a later date. His breathing began to calm and his tears halted, and suddenly he felt like himself again, felt his mind clear as his emotions settled down into place.

“Aziraphale.” He said reverently, as if the angel’s name was a prayer.

“Yes darling, I’m here, I’m right here.”

Crowley shot up, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale and placing one of his hands in his hair. Immediately, the angel accepted his embrace, pulling him in further. There were no tears, only Crowley relishing in the fact that his angel was okay, that he was in his arms and that nothing would separate them again. He tucked his head into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and felt as if his heart was about to melt when Aziraphale placed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Crowley’s head shot up when he began to hear footsteps walking away, catching Anathema trying to leave to most likely give them their space.

“Anathema.” He said, his voice hoarse from crying.

She paused, turning around to face him.

“Thank you.”

She gave him a knowing smile, before leaving the two of them to appreciate the fact that they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last one! Thank you so much for reading and for your comments- they really do make my day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First and foremost I just want to apologize for the fact that this chapter/ending to this fic took 3 (nearly 4 oof) months to complete. I honestly didn't mean for it to take me this long and believe me when I say I felt so terribly guilty for it. I am so so sorry again! When I first started this fic in December (I can't believe it's been that long!) I fully intended on finishing it before school started up again. Of course, I had to have gotten sick which completely impeded on my ability to write anything coherent lol. I had then really hoped to at least finish this fic fairly quickly and had even began a good writing schedule in order to accomplish that, but then life got in the way; school began to pick up in intensity to the point where I barely had any time to do anything but school work, let alone do anything that I enjoyed. Then my mental health diminished to the point where I couldn't even find the motivation to write, and then Coronavirus hit. It's been a rocky couple of months, but now I'm starting to regroup and get everything back on track. Oof and now I'm rambling sorry. Again, I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter and I really hope it had been worth the wait and that it's a good and satisfying ending to the story. Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck with me and enjoyed this story, and without further ado I hope you enjoy!

For what could have been several minutes or several hours they held onto each other, with Aziraphale running his fingers through Crowley’s hair and the demon holding onto him as if he were his lifeline. There were no more sobs, no more heavy breathing or tears. Besides Aziraphale’s soft voice whispering calming things into Crowley’s ear, they sat in silence, both beings fully drinking in the fact that the other was still there. Aziraphale pressed gentle kisses into Crowley’s forehead and started to feel him slowly lean his weight into the angel, making Aziraphale realize just how tired the demon must be.

“My dear,” He whispered, pulling back slightly, “Let’s get you into bed, shall we?”

Crowley nodded, his eyes blinking heavily as he fought off the exhaustion eating away at his consciousness. Aziraphale helped him up, wrapping an arm underneath him to bear most of the demon’s weight as he led him into the bedroom that he scarcely used, that now found itself dustless and pristine.

Aziraphale helped Crowley onto the bed, using a quick miracle to change the demon into his pajamas. Crowley went into the bed willingly, wincing in pain as he adjusted himself.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale’s hands hovered over Crowley, ready to help him with whatever was bothering him.

“’M alright, my arm’s just a bit sore.”

Aziraphale frowned, looking over at his arm; the Holy Water wounds showed evidence of healing, however it seemed that they were healing at a snail-like pace. The place where Anathema had injected him still showed itself, the vessels around it just as dark as it had been hours ago.

“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry. Here.” Aziraphale placed his hands over his arm, using another miracle to heal him of his wounds. For a moment, he feared that an angel healing a demon might be painful for the occult being involved. However, he was relieved to find Crowley in no pain as the angry red burns on his arm disappeared, the black tracing his veins slowly seeping away until they were no more. The guilt began to eat away at Aziraphale, knowing that he had caused so pain in Crowley. It hadn’t mattered that they had been out of options; he had hated every moment of it, every second of seeing Crowley suffering.

As soon as Crowley was healed, he visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering shut as he grew more comfortable on the bed. Aziraphale began to pull the blankets over him, doing his best not to disturb Crowley now that it seemed he was falling asleep. The angel nearly jumped when he felt the demon grab his wrist, his tired serpent eyes looking at him concerned.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Aziraphale frowned, “Of course, my dear. But you shouldn’t be worried about that right now-”

“But… you were _gone_…” Crowley searched his eyes, his concern and confusion melting together as he tried to figure out what had happened.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale’s heart stung, the memory of Crowley crying over what he thought was the angel’s dead body still fresh in his mind, “It wasn’t real. Anathema casted a spell to make you see things, hallucinate the whole ordeal. I’m so terribly sorry we had to put you through that.”

“So it was all in my head?” Crowley blinked, his overworked mind still trying to process what he heard.

“Yes. Again, I’m so sorry we didn’t know what else we could do-”

“S’alright, angel,” the demon’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting off to the side of the pillow as sleep began to overtake him, “Brought me back, didn’t it?”

_But at what cost?_ Aziraphale thought to himself. 

The angel opened his mouth, ready to voice his concerns when he noticed that Crowley had already fallen victim to sleep. Aziraphale lingered for a few seconds, making sure the demon was settled as he watched all the tensions and lines on Crowley’s face disappear. Once he was certain Crowley was alright, he closed the door to the room quietly and went downstairs to see Anathema.

The witch was sitting on the couch, leg bouncing nervously as she waited. As soon as she saw Aziraphale coming down the stairs, she shot up out of her seat.

“How is he?” She asked, eyes alight with worry.

“Exhausted. He’s just fallen asleep.” He paused once he was a few steps in front of Anathema, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Oh,” She seemed disappointed, before she nodded her head, “Yeah. That makes sense. He needs to rest, after all that’s happened today.”

“You should get some too, dear girl.” Aziraphale could see how worn-out the witch was, the last dredges of adrenaline seemingly the only thing keeping her awake.

She shook her head, “No, I want to be here when he wakes up. I want to, you know, make sure he’s really okay.”

“Anathema,” He put his hands on her shoulders, “You’re also exhausted. You’ve performed a lot of magic today. Go home. See Newton, and go to sleep.”

Anathema stared at him, considering his words as she debated whether or not to stay. Finally, she sighed, shoulders dropping as she let the full weight of her exhaustion take over.

“You have to call me as soon as he wakes up.” Though tired, she still sounded stern, and Aziraphale feared what would happen if he neglected to let her know.

“Of course.” He stepped back, handing the witch her coat.

She pulled her coat on, considering once more before she nodded and started to walk towards the door.

“Anathema, wait.” He called out.

She turned, fixing him with a curious expression.

“Thank you,” He exhaled, “Thank you for your help today. I am truly sorry for getting you involve, for putting you and Newton at risk. I shouldn’t have let you come here, I should have kept you safe but I didn’t know who else to turn to.” He bit his lip, beginning to wringing his hands together.

She gave him an exasperated look, “Aziraphale, there’s no need to be sorry. If I recall correctly you only came for me for help, you never forced me to go along with the plan. I was the one who implemented myself into it.”

Aziraphale frowned, before realizing she was right; he had intended originally on doing this all himself and only consulting Anathema on her knowledge. But when he’d gone to her they had started planning together and it just hadn’t felt right to tell Anathema she couldn’t participate when she had been so implemental.

“Besides,” She gave him a small smile, “I’m a witch, remember? I can take care of myself. I knew what I was getting into, what I was signing up for. I knew the risks of getting involved were. If I had gotten hurt, that would have been on me.”

“But still-”

“No, no buts, Aziraphale. Crowley’s my friend, there’s no _way _I would have let you do this without me.” She crossed her arms, her expression almost daring him to argue with her.

In fact, Aziraphale did want to fight her on this, but quickly realized that Anathema wouldn’t let him. He gave a reluctant sigh of defeat, and went to turn his attention back inside the bookshop.

“Hey Aziraphale? One last thing,” He looked back at Anathema, and saw the witch take a deep breath before continuing, “After you told Crowley you loved him, I heard him talk about your guys’ history, the things you’ve said?”

He flinched, shame beating him inside but he still nodded to let Anathema know she could continue.

“If he decides after all of this that he doesn’t want you, that he doesn’t want to see you anymore you have to respect that decision. I know if he comes to the same conclusion for me, even though I won’t like it, I’ll still let him go.” She spoke gently, watching him carefully as she paused to let him absorb her words.

Aziraphale’s eyes began to prick up, because he already knew that’s what was going to happen; how could Crowley stand to be with him, let alone be _around _him, after all he’s done? He’s been cruel and selfish, and it was his _fault _that Crowley turned off his emotions. He was responsible for Crowley’s actions while he had his switch turned off, and he had _seen_ just how horrified he’d been at what he’d done. As soon as Crowley woke up, he’d tell Aziraphale off before removing himself permanently from his life, and Aziraphale wouldn’t blame him. He deserved it, deserved to be alone after all the pain he’d caused. 

“I know.” Aziraphale said once his voice came back to him.

“But if he decides that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, you’ve got to respect that decision as well.” She stared at him imploringly, making sure that he understood what she was getting at.

He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he took in what she said.

“I’ll… keep that in mind, my dear.”

“Good,” She took another deep breath, walking out the door but not before saying, “And don’t forget to call me!”

With that, the door shut, leaving a very concerned angel and an extremely tired demon alone.

Aziraphale wondered what to do; should he wait besides Crowley, holding his hand while he waited for him to wake up? Or would the demon be upset by that? Perhaps he should stay downstairs, and wait for him to return to consciousness here. But would that make Aziraphale seem cold and distant, uncaring to what happened to him? Aziraphale worried his lip, unsure of what to do. He had no idea where he stood with Crowley, and he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

Despite this, Aziraphale didn’t like the idea of Crowley waking up all alone. Taking a calming and steadying breath, he decided to check on the demon regularly. That way Crowley still had his space while still Aziraphale could make sure he was alright. Would he need anything when he awoke? While it was true that demons and angels didn’t need sustenance, Aziraphale figured that with all Crowley had been through in the last few hours leaving a cup of water besides him couldn’t hurt.

Feeling comforted in having made a decision, Aziraphale grabbed a cup of water from the kitchen and headed back to his room to deliver it on the nightstand next to where Crowley was sleeping.

When Aziraphale entered the room, he nearly jumped out of shock; Crowley was sitting up in bed, chin resting on his fist as he looked lost in thought. As soon as he saw Aziraphale enter, his gaze shifted to him, golden eyes bright in the dark room. Aziraphale wanted to speak, but found himself unable to say anything as the two of them stared at each other. Crowley seemed to have the same problem; he remained quiet, and an awkward silence enveloped the two beings, each of them at a loss as to what to say.

“I, erm, didn’t know you were still awake dear boy.” Aziraphale said when he gained the courage to speak.

“Can’t seem to fall asleep.” He regarded Aziraphale carefully, a question burning in his eyes.

A pregnant silence enveloped them again, and Aziraphale shifted his gaze to the cup in his hand. He had expected Crowley to be out for the next couple of hours, had thought that he’d have some time to figure out what he was going to say. A thousand apologizes ached to escape his throat, but he couldn’t quite find his voice, finding himself unable to speak the moment he needed to the most.

“I just came to give you something to drink. I’m not sure if you’ll want it but-”

“Did you mean it?” Crowley interrupted, his voice slightly hoarse.

Aziraphale turned his eyes up to meet Crowley’s, “Mean what, dear?”

“When you said that you loved me,” Crowley swallowed, his voice soft, “Did you mean it? Or were you just saying that to get me to turn my emotions on?”

Wide, golden eyes bore into his imploringly, and Aziraphale could see the hope hiding in them. Aziraphale had the feeling that if he had said no right now, if he claimed that he had just said it to get Crowley back, the demon would simply accept it and things would go back to the way they were. If by some miracle Crowley still wanted him around, they’d have semi-regular lunches, drinks into the early mornings, and would pretend that they didn’t love each other.

Aziraphale didn’t want to pretend anymore. This all started because of Aziraphale’s inability to be honest with Crowley, and he was going to change that right here and now.

“I meant it,” He sprang forward, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, “The whole story about nineteen forty-one was true, every word of it. I _love _you, Crowley. I have for a while.”

The demon just stared at Aziraphale, expression stained with disbelief. Then, Crowley turned his head towards the sheets, slowly processing the past couple of days.

“So you knew. About how I felt this, this whole time.” He looked back up towards the angel, his face neutral but his eyes shined with hurt.

Regret and shame ran through the angel, his heart heavy as he looked at the demon.

“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper, remorse dripping from the single word.

“And you just thought you’d keep it to yourself. Didn’t think I should know how you felt? Didn’t think you should at _least _make me _aware _that you even knew how _I felt_?” Crowley tried to keep his voice calm, but the hurt and anger caused his voice to begin to tremble.

“I- I know. And I’m so sorry. I should have told you, been _honest _with you. Then we could have avoided this whole mess.” Aziraphale shook his head, turning his eyes away from the man-shaped being in front of him.

“Why didn’t you? I know you said you were afraid of what Heaven and Hell would do if we were caught, but why didn’t you just _tell _me at least? I thought that I was _alone _in this, thought there was no way you’d ever feel the same. Why… just why?” Aziraphale flashed his eyes back up, his heart clenching when he saw how miserable Crowley looked.

“I-” Aziraphale took a deep breath, willing the tears to stay in his eyes, “I was a fool. And yes, I was terrified at the thought of what Hell would do to you if they discovered the true nature of our relationship. Because, my dear, no matter how much I loved you I could never risk your life.”

Crowley took a breath, ready to interject when Aziraphale interrupted, “No, wait, please. Let me finish.”

He expected the demon to continue speaking anyway, to ask whatever question or to let lose whatever thoughts and accusations were on his mind. Instead, Crowley simply nodded, indicating for Aziraphale to continue.

“While yes, your potential death was a contributor for the reason of keeping my feelings a secret from you, it wasn’t the only reason,” Aziraphale paused, giving himself a moment to reorganize his thoughts, “My dear, I know it’s no secret to you and I am deeply ashamed of it, but I’m afraid for the first few centuries that we knew each other I never saw you as a person, per say. You were the enemy, a threat who while didn’t seem very violent was still someone to keep a close eye on. I knew that you were harmless, and that you were actually very good company to be around, but I stuck to what I had been taught, which was that all demons were forces of evil that were not to be trusted.”

“Glad I made such a good impression.” Crowley muttered sarcastically, but Aziraphale could hear the hurt hiding in his tone. 

“But you proved me wrong; As the years went on, I couldn’t help but see that those beliefs were _horribly _incorrect. You, my dear, are the most wonderful being I have ever met.” The demon blinked in surprise, his mouth falling open ever so slightly, “You weren’t this personification of evil, ready to do harm to anyone and anything as you pleased. You’re kind, even if you won’t admit it. You love humanity and the world, and relish in mankind’s accomplishments. You’re brave, cunning, and just… unapologetically you. You don’t care what others think of you, and you think _for yourself_. You stick to your opinions and you stand up for what you believe in. You saved as many children as you could on the Ark when Heaven turned a blind eye to them. You risked your life time after time to save me from embarrassing myself to Heaven whenever I was at risk of discorporation because you knew just how much I hated it. My dear, you have more love in your soul than any angel I’ve ever met.” 

Aziraphale’s words seemed to paralyze Crowley, who didn’t say a word as the angel began to wipe the freshly fallen tears before he continued, “But by the time I saw this, I realized just how much I didn’t deserve you. You’re everything that I’m _not_\- I’m stubborn, would only listen to the will of Heaven even if they were wrong, and I can be a pompous prick at times. You were so ready to give up everything, to fight for the life you wanted and I was too afraid. I was too afraid of what would happen to you if we failed, of what they would do to us if we were caught. And so, I pushed you away. Wanted to make sure that we remained nothing more than friends, because I wanted you to find someone who could love you the way you deserved. And now I realize how selfish that was, and how selfish _I’ve _been because all that did was _hurt _you more than _help_.” He bit his lip, turning his eyes to his hands as he finished. 

“And after all I’ve done… it’s even more clear that I’m unworthy of you. I forced you to turn off your emotions, caused people who did nothing wrong to get hurt because of that, and the things we had to do to get you to feel again,” Aziraphale turned his miserable expression back towards Crowley, tears flowing freely, “I’m so sorry, Crowley. I know that’s not even minutely enough to make up for everything, but I am. I truly am. So if you want to walk out this door right now, I won’t stop you. If you want nothing to do with me, I will never call you or speak with you again. You deserve the world, Crowley, and you deserve someone who isn’t afraid to love you and isn’t afraid of who knows about it.”

Crowley stared at him, wheels turning in his mind as he tried to process what Aziraphale was telling him, “But what about the other night, when you said that me loving you was a problem?”

Aziraphale felt a fresh wave of ruefulness rush through him, shame causing his cheeks to flush, “That didn’t come out the way I had wanted it to,” He swallowed, before looking back at Crowley, “I never meant that your love was a problem, dear, I meant it more as in you shouldn’t love _me, _because you are worth so much more than I’ll ever be. You were never the problem, Crowley. I _was_.”

“Angel…” Crowley sighed, “Aziraphale, come over here.”

Aziraphale froze, not expecting Crowley’s reaction. He obliged, moving himself closer to the demon until there was only a small space between them. As soon as he was settled, Crowley raised his hand to Aziraphale’s face to wipe away some of his tears.

“No, Crowley,” He shook his head, but didn’t remove Crowley’s hand, “Don’t you see? You’re love for me is blinding you, and I- I don’t want you to be a slave to me.”

“Aziraphale, I didn’t mean that- I didn’t mean _anything _I told you. I- I just wanted to hurt you, to make you leave me alone. You’ve got to believe me.” Golden eyes beseeched him, and Aziraphale could see a similar desperation akin to the one he’d seen when Crowley was in the Devil’s Trap.

“I know, I _do_, but still-”

“No, Aziraphale, you _don’t_,” Crowley sighed, sitting up straighter before putting Aziraphale’s face in his hands, “Aziraphale, angel, my love for you isn’t a torture. It’s, it’s a _gift_.”

Crowley rubbed his thumb against his cheek, looking at Aziraphale as if he were the most precious thing he’d ever held in his hands, “When I first Fell, I had no one. I was all alone, betrayed by the only parent I’d ever had and stuck with a group of demons whom I didn’t even really _care _about. I wasn’t loyal to Lucifer, and sure as hell wasn’t loyal to his cause. I had asked too many questions, and got tossed in with the lot of them, demons who were angry and thirsty for blood and there was I, confused and scared of what I’d become.”

Crowley moved one of his hands down, letting it rest at the back of Aziraphale’s neck, “I never belonged in Hell. We both know that. It’s why I came to the surface as soon as I could. And even then, even after I’d tempted Eve I felt… nothing. I mean, I _did _feel guilty about having her and Adam kicked out. Never my intention, just needed to make Hell think I was doing _something _important.

“But then, then I found you,” A soft smile grew on his face as he recalled, “And you were _nothing _like the angels I remembered from Heaven. I fully expected you to smite me the moment you saw me, but you didn’t. You asked me for my _opinion_, and took comfort from what me, a _demon_, said. You gave away your sword to people because they needed it, and you genuinely _cared_. You were _different_, just like me. And angel… yes, you’ve said some pretty stupid shit to me over the years, but I knew you never meant them. I knew that they were just pathetic attempts to keep me at bay. But… Aziraphale, without you, I would have gone _crazy_. We _both _would have. Because even though you won’t admit it, you were never like Heaven. Your friendship gave me something to hold onto, something to be _believe _in. You understand me better than anything else in the entire universe, God included. Without you, life would have been so boring, so pointless. Without you, I would have shut my emotions off _millennia _ago, but _because _I had you, _because _I loved you, I kept it on, because you reminded me of how _good _it was to be human, of how wonderful this _stupid _little planet is.

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” The demon pulled the hand at his neck back, using it to point at Aziraphale, “I’m still _pissed _over how _poorly _you handled the other night, and the fact that you refused to tell me how you felt _for years _when you knew I felt the same, because there’s one thing I want to get straight here.”

He paused, giving Aziraphale a stern look, “The only person who gets to decide whether or not you’re deserving of my love is _me_, angel. You don’t get to choose if I get to be with you; now, if _you _don’t want to, that’s a different story, I’ll respect that if that’s what you want, but you? You _cannot _make my own decision for me. Do you understand?” 

Aziraphale nodded, “I- I know that now, Crowley, and again I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to decide for you, I just wanted what was truly best for you.”

“I know, angel. And I don’t understand why you were so certain that you were wrong for me, but I have a feeling it’s because of those bastard angels that made you so self-conscious of yourself that you can’t see yourself the way I do.”

“But-”

“No,” Crowley said firmly, “Angel, I know you’ve got flaws. I _know _you’re stubborn as all else, I _know _that when we fight you will _refuse _to admit that you’re wrong, even when you know I’m right. But, angel, I’ve got flaws too! I was _willing to kill a child _just so we could stay here, on Earth. I’m reckless, impulsive, and sometimes I don’t think all the way through my decisions. Hell, if we’d gone through with going to Alpha Centauri, the Earth would be a battle ground right now! So please, don’t make me out to be a selfless hero who’s tragically gone and fallen in love with the villain, because even though you’re a bit of a bastard, you’re _far _from the bad guy.” 

“How can you say that? Crowley, of _course _I’m the bad guy! After today, after what I put you through… yes, I’m glad that you are yourself again, but… we tortured you with Holy Water, and I _let _Anathema talk me into it because she was so _sure _that if I couldn’t talk you into coming back, you’d come to your senses after a few drops of that blessed water. And it didn’t even work!” Aziraphale stood, wrapping his arms around him as he grew angry at himself, “After all that _pain _and _suffering _we put you through, it didn’t _matter _because it didn’t _work_.”

Tears started to fall again as he met Crowley’s eyes, “I didn’t want to do it, but I was convinced that if it meant getting you back to your old self that it was justified. But it _wasn’t_. You remained a stranger, a ghost of yourself without any morals, and there was I, who had let a friend put you in _agony _for nothing. So how… how are you _not _disgusted with me?”

“_Aziraphale_,” Crowley looked at him as if he’d just grown a third head, “I had my emotions _turned off_. I- I was a _monster_, I, I didn’t _just _hurt those people that day you came by my flat.” Crowley turned his head, ashamed, “I… I convinced a man that getting a drink after _three years _of sobriety wasn’t a bad idea. I tempted a woman to leave her husband and infant son without so much as a _goodbye_. I, I was _hurting _people, literally _ruining _lives and I wouldn’t have stopped if you hadn’t stepped in.”

He looked up at Aziraphale with watery eyes filled with silent determination, “So no, angel. I’m not _disgusted _with what you did, because you did what you had to do. Yes, it was _not _pleasant, but you had to do _something_! I didn’t listen to logic, I _refused _to open my heart back open, even as you presented me with everything I’d ever wanted, and you _warned _me. Aziraphale,” Crowley took a deep breath, “I wasn’t going to turn it on. And yeah, the Holy Water bit didn’t pan through, but how could you have known that? You didn’t do it out of malice or spite, you had no _choice_. You _literally _had to shock me into turning on my feelings, Aziraphale. That’s how _stubborn _I was.”

Aziraphale shook his head, still not willing to let go of the blame.

“Even so, you wouldn’t have even had to go _through _that if it hadn’t of been for me. _I _made you turn it off.” Aziraphale swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat growing.

“You didn’t make me turn it off, angel. That was _me_, remember?”

“But you wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t pushed you! And don’t try to convince me that’s not true!” Crowley remained silent, his determination halted as he tried to figure out what to say.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t said what you did,” Aziraphale opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Crowley, “But _I _made the decision to do it. I _knew _the risks, had seen with my own eyes how having no emotions affects demons but I did it anyway. I have survived _millennia _dealing with emotions, ignoring every temptation that came my way to stop feeling anything. You might have pushed me, angel, but you never told me to turn it off, or convinced me to do it. That was all _me_, and just like you can’t make decisions for me you can’t take the responsibilities for my actions as well.” 

Aziraphale was about to argue, was ready to try and prove himself guilty when he felt Crowley grab his hand, gently pulling Aziraphale back onto the bed. Aziraphale went willing, heart melting as Crowley rubbed his thumb over the angel’s knuckles.

“_Please_, Aziraphale,” Crowley used his free hand to cup Aziraphale’s face, “Please just let me love you.”

Aziraphale stared into Crowley’s full-blown amber eyes, unable to speak. He was torn; he _loved_ Crowley, in a way that overwhelmed him and thrilled him at the same time. He never thought he’d get here, never thought Crowley would be begging him to let _go_ of his self-doubt. While he still believed that Crowley deserved better, he _had _taken what the demon had said to heart; he couldn’t take this choice away from Crowley any longer than he already had. Aziraphale already knew that he wanted to be with Crowley; if Crowley wanted him as well (which he clearly did), then all that was left to do was let him in, let the pieces of each other fall into place together. 

Aziraphale nodded, his throat too tight to even consider speaking. Crowley exhaled in relief, a carefree smile playing at his lips as he moved forward slowly, hesitating slightly before pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s. The angel kissed him back immediately, feeling as if every nerve in his body was firing at once as they moved their lips together. Crowley released Aziraphale’s hand, sliding it to his hair as the kiss moved from something gentle to more intense. Aziraphale deepened the kiss, and allowed himself to be pulled down on top of Crowley onto the bed. Crowley moved one of his hands to caress Aziraphale’s side, and it felt like a trail of fire followed wherever the demon’s fingers went, burning him in the most wonderful way. 

Aziraphale pulled back, ignoring the groan of disappointment that came from Crowley.

“My dearest,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, using a hand to caress Crowley’s face, “As much as I want this, I’m afraid I must insist on you getting some rest first.”

“’M fine, angel.” He growled, leaning up to chase Aziraphale’s lips.

Aziraphale stopped him by placing a finger on his lips, earning him a glare from the demon.

“Fine,” He rolled his eyes, settling his head back on the pillow, “You really are a bastard, you know that?”

Aziraphale laughed, planting a small kiss on Crowley’s lips as he rolled off of the demon, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Crowley paused, a hesitant look passing his face before he moved and wrapped his arms around the angel.

“Is this alright?” He asked, golden eyes uncertain.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale pulled him in close, letting the demon burry his head on his neck, “It’s more than alright.”

“Aziraphale?” The demon’s voice was soft, barely audible.

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He felt Crowley tense in his arms, his heart aching as he realized that the man shaped being in his arms expected rejection.

“I love you too, my dearest. So much.” Aziraphale tightened his arms around Crowley, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

Crowley immediately relaxed, melting into Aziraphale in a way that made the angel burn with affection. He continued to rub Crowley’s back, and eventually he began to hear the demon’s breathing deepen and a soft snore emanate from him indicating that Crowley had fallen asleep. Aziraphale placed a soft kiss to his temple, and closed his eyes, welcoming the idea of sleep despite the fact that he didn’t do it often.

However, with nothing to distract him, Aziraphale’s thoughts began to run rampant.

Overwhelming guilt washed over him, reminding him that he didn’t deserve this; even before this whole mess of Crowley turning off his feelings, he’d hurt the demon for_ years_. Crowley _deserved _someone better than him, deserved someone so much better and actually _worthy _of his love. Perhaps he should go- miracle them to Crowley’s flat and leave a note, yes, that might be the best case…

Only…

No. That wasn’t the right answer, was it? He’d been down this road before, doing the _same bloody thing _that had started this whole mess, thinking that he could make decisions on Crowley’s behalf. No, he wouldn’t run away, wouldn’t push Crowley away ever again. If he thought Crowley deserved better, then dammit, he’d _be _better. From now on, he’d put Crowley first; Aziraphale would make sure the demon felt his love, make sure that Crowley felt appreciated and _valued_. From now on, Aziraphale wouldn’t shy away from his emotions, wouldn’t give into fear. Crowley deserved better than that, and for his sake, he would _do _better.

When Aziraphale was certain Crowley was dead asleep, he snuck out of bed, and set off to reverse all the miracles and temptations Crowley had done while with his conscious temporarily gone. They were easy enough to find; Aziraphale could still feel the hint of occult magic in the air, could still feel the traces of demonic influences. With a quick wave of his hand, the people’s lives that had been ruined quickly returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. It was the least he could do, a start to help repair the damage he had caused. Even though Crowley insisted that the actions he had taken with his emotions gone was his own fault, it would take a little while before Aziraphale could even begin to give up the responsibility for them.

When the angel had finished, he came back home to find Crowley still asleep, and he quickly crawled back into bed. He pulled the demon into his arms, and to his surprise, feel asleep for the first time in centuries.

\--------- 

Crowley didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

The demon had slept for three days before he had woken up in Aziraphale’s arms to the sound of his phone ringing. It had been Anathema, who had very quickly and guiltily began to apologize the moment he had answered.

“I’m really sorry about what we did to turn your emotions back on,” she said began, “While I don’t regret it- we _were _able to get you back- you were still really hurt and we put you through hell and I _am _sorry for that. And if you don’t ever want to see me again, that’s fine, I-I understand.”

Crowley had just groaned, his still half-asleep mind barely processing what Anathema had been saying as he explained that no, he wasn’t mad, and while yes, the whole thing had been _extremely unpleasant_, he was glad that they had done it; he wouldn’t be himself right now if they hadn’t intervened, a thought that equally terrified and horrified him. Then Crowley himself apologized, still disgusted with himself over the threats he had made to Anathema and Newt. 

“It’s okay Crowley,” She had responded, “I know you would never do anything harmful to Newt and I. And I know that I seemed a little… I don’t know, enthusiastic about the whole torture thing? It was only because I had to act tough in front of you; you wouldn’t have listened or even cared if I had showed that I truly cared, so I had to act like the bad guy in order to try to get _something_ out of you.”

“Just remind me to never make it on your bad list.” Crowley had been both serious and joking.

She had laughed, and the both of them made plans to go get drinks by the end of the week. By the time Crowley had hung up, Aziraphale had awoken, giving him a soft smile and kiss before suggesting if he’d like to go get breakfast.

“Sure, angel. Anywhere you want to go.”

Crowley had expected, despite their conversation, for Aziraphale to pull away. He had expected him to still tell Crowley that he loved him, maybe hold his hand occasionally or touch his cheek affectionally but not go beyond that.

What he had _not _expected was for Aziraphale to fully and openly love him without a care in the world.

When they went for their strolls through the park, Aziraphale would loop his arm around Crowley’s, planting kisses on his cheek whenever he could. When they ate at restaurants, he’d always announce proudly, “My husband and I would like a seat.”, which would cause Crowley’s brain to short circuit. He would look at Crowley unabashed, with all the love he felt directed at the demon that sometimes he felt he was going to drown in it. Aziraphale would kiss him softly in the mornings when they awoke together, looking at him as if he were the luckiest being in the entire planet. When he read during the day, he’d absent-mindedly comb his fingers through his hair, and allow the demon to rest his head on his lap. He told Crowley frequently how much he loved him. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

They talked, too. Whenever Aziraphale felt his insecurities beginning to get the best of him, the angel came to him and together they worked through them until he felt better. Whenever they had a fight or a misunderstanding, after some fresh air and some time apart to think, they quickly came back together apologized. They were open and honest about their feelings, never hiding anything from the other.

Well, _almost _everything. Because despite his best efforts, Crowley found that he still had _doubts_. 

Though he knew it was ridiculous, a small but ever-growing part of him feared that this wasn’t real, that the only reason why Aziraphale was with Crowley was because he was afraid the demon would turn his emotions off again if he rejected him again. Of course Crowley _wouldn’t, _he never would again, but did Aziraphale know that? Crowley wanted to ask the angel so bad, tell him that if he ended things between them Crowley wouldn’t go back to the monster he had been but he was scared, so scared of losing Aziraphale and all he’d ever wanted with him.

Crowley tried to ignore it and push past it, but it still got to him. When it did, he couldn’t bear to receive any of the angel’s love, usually making an excuse to be distant so that Aziraphale wouldn’t be suspicious. He felt terribly guilty about it; here Aziraphale was, working hard to push past his own doubts and was unafraid to talk to Crowley about them while the demon hid his own fears from him.

Tonight, Crowley’s doubts were especially bad, but he didn’t want to be away from Aziraphale. Instead, he plopped himself on the couch while Aziraphale read at his desk, scrolling through his social media. They had had a wonderful evening, with a lovely dinner with even better company. However, when Aziraphale had reached over to grab Crowley’s hand while they ate the fear that this was all an elaborate scheme to keep Crowley’s emotions on began to ran rampant. He’d tried to quell it, but the thoughts and anxiety refused to leave him alone, which was what resulted in him being far off the rest of the night.

Crowley had felt Aziraphale’s gaze on him all evening, making Crowley feel guilt-ridden about pushing him away but unable to do anything about it. Thankfully the angel hadn’t pushed, and after a few glasses of wine and fond conversations of the past they both sauntered off to their own activities. Crowley had just started to feel himself calm down and his worries begin to subside when he heard the angel stand abruptly and make his way towards the demon. Crowley had glanced up curiously only to be surprised to see Aziraphale sink to his knees, taking one of Crowley’s hands in his and placing them on his forehead.

“What can I do?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean, angel?” Crowley frowned, setting his phone down.

“What can I do to make you believe this is real?” Aziraphale looked up at him, his eyes watering.

Crowley felt his heart stop, mortification and guilt crushing him as he realized Aziraphale _knew_\- maybe not the reason behind it, but knew that something was _wrong_. He knew that Crowley was hiding something from him, and the fact that this was eating the angel alive caused an insurmountable wave of remorse to crash through him. 

“I’ve noticed, sometimes when I touch you, you flinch away, and other times when I tell you how I feel, you give me such a miserable look, as if you wish you could trust it.” Aziraphale bit his lip, and Crowley placed his free hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Angel...”

“Tell me, dearest, what can I say or do to help?” Aziraphale entreated him, and though all Crowley wanted to brush this off, tell the angel that he was reading in too deep, he was never one to deny Aziraphale what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” Crowley felt his eyes start to water, using a small miracle to make sure his tears would _not _fall, “I’m sorry, angel…”

“Perhaps if you told me _why _you couldn’t believe me, then maybe I could help?” Aziraphale took their hands and placed a soft kiss to his hand, looking back at him hopefully.

Crowley didn’t know what to do; if he told him he didn’t know, wasn’t sure _why _he couldn’t trust this thing they were building, would Aziraphale believe him? Despite the angel’s calm and reassuring demeaner, Crowley was still terrified at the idea of losing everything he had ever wanted with him. However, Aziraphale wasn’t an idiot; sure, sometimes the most painfully obvious things would go over his head, but he would _know _if Crowley was lying. If he was able to figure out that something was wrong despite Crowley’s best effort to bury it, he would be able to see through any excuse or lie he told him.

Besides, he realized with clarity, the last time they hadn’t been honest with their feelings it didn’t end well. They’d promised each other they would be honest from now on, and dammit, he would.

“I guess I’m just worried that you’re not doing this for the right reasons.” Crowley’s voice was quiet, barely audible.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean, darling?”

Crowley sighed, his voice shaking as he turned his head away and said, “I’m scared that you’re only doing this because you’re afraid that I’ll turn my emotions off again if you tell me that you don’t feel the same,” Crowley turned his head back towards the angel, desperation taking flight in his voice, “You’ve got to know I wouldn’t, right? That if you decided right now that you were sick of me I wouldn’t hold any grudges against you. I mean, I would be hurt that none of this had been real but… just… please don’t be with me because you think it’s the right thing to do. Be with me because you _want _to, angel.”

“Oh, my dear heart,” Aziraphale breathed out, “My dear, I would _never_\- as if I _could_\- oh _dearest_.” 

He stood up and sat next to Crowley, taking one of his hands and cupping the demon’s face with it.

“My Crowley,” He let out a shaky breath, “I would never lie to you about my feelings. That would be disrespectful to you, and I could never, _ever _imagine toying with your feelings like that. I know that you’re never going to turn your feelings off again, no matter what happens in this world or with us. I_ love _you, Crowley. And maybe you don’t believe me now, but I hope that one day you will.” Aziraphale gave him a sad smile, letting his thumb dust over his cheek.

Crowley wanted so desperately to believe, wanted to believe that Aziraphale _really _wanted him and wanted this life they were beginning to build. His stubborn heart, however, refused him, and though he _knew _deep down that Aziraphale was telling the truth, he just couldn’t accept it.

Crowley shifted his eyes away guiltily, unable to bear the love Aziraphale was surely looking at him with right now. Aziraphale continued to stroke his cheek with his thumb, having sensed Crowley’s hesitance and allowing a few moments of silence to pass before he spoke again.

“You know what I love about you, my dear?” Crowley turned his attention back to the angel, who was waiting patiently for a response.

“Not really.”

“I love your eyebrows,” Crowley blinked in surprise, not expecting the confession as Aziraphale lifted his hand to gently trace them, “I love how whenever I say something silly or stupid how they rise over your sunglasses, and how you won’t say anything but you’ll give me an amused look.” Aziraphale smiled, lost in a memory.

“I love your lips,” He continued, running his thumb over his bottom lip, “I love how you can say the most sarcastic things, how the most blasphemous things can escape from them, but how also the most sweetest, most beautiful and kind words can fall from them.

“They’re also not too bad to kiss.” Crowley laughed at that, a small burning feeling of affection towards the man-shaped being in front of him causing it to be a small sound.

“I love your eyes,” He moved his hand to trace the underside of his eye, “I’ve always thought them to be so beautiful; I could stare at them for hours,” He let a soft chuckle out, before continuing, “They were the first thing that struck me about you, back in Eden. I love how observant they are, how they take in every detail of a room. But most importantly, I love how they can see through me, how no matter how easily I can fool myself you can always call me out on my bullshit.”

Normally, Crowley would have acted scandalized by Aziraphale’s cursing and teased him about it. At the moment, however, he was so overtaken by emotion he didn’t think he _could _speak.

“I love _you, _Crowley, more than I thought it was possible for anyone to love anything. You make me a better person, cause me to rethink how I see the world. You have made me so happy in these past few months together, but I need you to know that this is _real _and that _I love you _and I will never _stop-_”

Aziraphale’s sentence was cut off by Crowley’s mouth, who couldn’t sit for a moment longer without kissing his angel. Aziraphale made a startled sound, before kissing Crowley back with a soft intensity, so filled with love that it made Crowley’s insides melt.

“I love you too, angel, so damn much.” He kissed Aziraphale again, his mouth hungry on the angel’s as he allowed himself to feel his love, allowed himself to realize that this was _real _and that he _finally _got the happy ending he’d wanted.

And later that night, when Aziraphale held him close and whispered _I love you _into Crowley’s ear, the demon didn’t have to wonder whether or not it was true.

He just knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Whether you started this story back in December or you found it while it was still in development (or even just now reading after it's finished), I'm so glad you're here and I'm so happy and grateful that you took the time to read this. I absolutely love reading your comments, and can't believe that anyone would be interested in anything I write. I'm thinking of writing a human AU with these two bad boys set in a university, so if that kind of story is your thing then I hope to see you around for that! If not, thank you for reading this story and I hope you have a wonderful day :).

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at https://ellewrites4.tumblr.com/


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